


Strong as Iron, Patient as A Spider

by lomku, Okay_Stark



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Family, Canon Rewrite, Character Study, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Family Fluff, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Natasha Romanov, Kid Tony Stark, M/M, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Avengers (2012), Pre-Iron Man 1, Protective Natasha Romanov, Team as Family, Tony Being Tony, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Torture, literally us fixing everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-05-19 09:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19354633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lomku/pseuds/lomku, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okay_Stark/pseuds/Okay_Stark
Summary: A story in which Natasha Romanov was rescued from the Red Room at the young age of 10, and brought to Stark Manor. In need of a temporary home, Tony’s Aunt Peggy convinced his father to let the young girl stay with them until they could find a home for Natasha. Little did anyone know that Natasha and Tony would create an unbreakable bond that would last a life time. From Afghanistan, to the Invasion of New York, and the Mad Titan himself.





	1. The One Where a Aunt Peggy brings a guest

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t get to ask lomku for what this chapter should be named whoops.  
> Also was inspired by [this](https://the-faultofdaedalus.tumblr.com/post/182506477514/consider-after-tonys-born-and-shields-founded) Tumblr post. 
> 
> Ages and Dates of Birth Have been changed for the story!!!
> 
> Tony: 12 (born 1977)  
> Natasha: 10 (born 1979)

Mindful of the sound he was making, Tony walked through the west wing halls. He had heard his Aunt Peggy had arrived that morning, and was eager to find her. The hallway approaching his father study was lined with family portraits, none he wanted to be in, from over the years. Glancing over his shoulder he bumped into a table that had a glass vase on top. Tony never cared for the vase, but he was quick to catch it before it could fall. His mother would have had a heart attack

“She can’t stay here! Why did you even come here with Nastia, Natalie, or whatever she’s called?” Tony heard his father yell as he got closer.

“It’s Natasha. Please listen to me, Howard. This is just a temporary arrangement until we find her a suitable home. It’s been hard to find foster homes for all the ‘dance academy’ girls and you know-” Tony heard his Aunt Peggy approach the door and his brown eyes widened. How’d she realised he was there? His Aunt came into view with a raised eyebrow and scolding look; however, she said nothing as she closed the door. Tony cursed his Aunt Peggy and moped. Why did she have to be so secretive??

Aunt Peggy had just barged in with some of her agents and gone directly to his father’s study. It was unusual, to say the least. For one, it was the middle of the night. Yet, Aunt Peggy always woken him up to say hello, and it’s not like he would’ve mind. And there was also that weird conversation. Why would girls from a dance academy need housing? Were they orphaned girls? Or maybe they were from another country and just needed some place to sleep during their stay in the States? Aunt Peggy did say it was only temporary.

Also, who was Natasha? And where was she? Tony hadn’t seen anyone other than the cars lined out front and Peggy. Was the girl that important?

Tony wondered how old she was. He hoped she was around his age. Maybe they could spend some time together? Maybe they could even be...friends?

It wasn’t like Tony had a lot of those. Sure, Ty was his friend, but the other kids in his class didn’t even speak to him. Why would they? He was at least 4 years younger than them, and too smart for his own good. Tony couldn’t blame them. I mean, in two years I’ll start college. The others must be as intimidated by me as they are jealous.  
Sometimes being a genius sucked.

Tony retreated from the hallway, but not before he spared a quick look back at the door. Maybe the girl had answers. He just had to look for Natasha, wherever she was. He turned to the right at an intersection corridor, and began walking down the new corridor when he heard someone clearing their throat.

“And where do you think you’re going, young master?”

Dammit. He should have known Jarvis would be lurking around.

Tony tried to sound nonchalant, but even to his ears, it sounded fake. “I was just, uh, you know, I had to go to the bathroom.”

Jarvis wasn’t impressed. There was no bathroom in this hall, but Tony could never really lie to him.

“Well then, let me walk you back to your room. You wouldn’t want to stay awake strictly longer than necessary, no?” Jarvis smiled slightly, knowing Tony couldn’t object without blowing his flimsy excuse for a cover. The boy sighed and began walking back to his room.There was nothing he could do. Finding Natasha would have to wait until the morning.

* * *

 

Tony awoke determined to continue his investigation. Howard was nowhere to be seen, likely having left for some business at Stark Industries already. When Tony tried to ask his mother at breakfast about Aunt Peggy (he only ever saw Maria at breakfast), she told him she needed to rest and scurried away to her room. Tony followed but the door was promptly shut in his face.

Well. Back to the kitchen, aka where the only people willing to talk to Tony were.

Jarvis was making scrambled eggs, in true British fashion, and turned to face Tony when he entered.  
“Good morning, young master. Fancy some eggs?” He said looking over his shoulder to the boy.

“Thank you, J. But I’m not here to eat.” Tony replied, but then added after quick consideration: “I mean, I won’t say no to food, but I’m looking for a girl? Have you seen a girl? Natasha? Did Howard tell you anything about her? Can I see her?”

Jarvis put a portion of scrambled eggs on a plate with two slices of bread while he listened to Tony ramble. He put the plate on the table and looked pointedly at Tony. “Eat and I’ll tell you.”

Tony almost wanted to refuse on principle, but it wasn’t exactly a hardship to eat breakfast. While he started chewing on the honestly delicious eggs, Jarvis told him what he knew. “There is indeed a new guest at the mansion. Young Natasha will stay with us until Miss Carter finds her a better home. Be considerate with her, she is likely nervous and suspicious. You can find her in your mother’s gardens.”

Tony, without hesitating, shoved the rest of the eggs and the bread in his mouth and jumped off his chair, then shouted:“Thanks, J!”

* * *

 

Finding Natasha was more difficult than he’d have thought. He didn't think the girl would go very deep into his mother's garden. Maria demanded to have a large garden filled with flowers, some exotic, and over the years more had been added on. After a good 30 minutes of walking around without seeing a single soul, he flopped down on a bench a stone bench near the fountain. Could it be she was avoiding him? But why? They hadn’t even talked!

Tony thought about giving up and walking back to the manor. He looked around the open area glancing past the green hedge. He almost thought he was hallucinating when a red-headed girl appeared in front of him, startling him violently. Where…? He could have sworn she just materialised out of thin air.

She haughtily looking down at him and shook her head. Tony took note of how pretty Natasha was with hair like flames framing her pale face and vibrant green eyes. There was a certain menacing grace to how she stood, as if she was a tiger waiting to prowl and he was the prey. It was a bit scary, actually.

She stared at him, a challenge in her eyes, before declaring,“Хватит искать меня.”

Tony stared back, shocked. Was that russian? Was she a commie? Before he could ask her anything, she slipped into the shadows, leaving him alone again.

He had the feeling it wouldn’t go over well if he tried to follow her. Instead, he went to his room and sat on his bed, pondering.

Natasha was intimidating, even though she didn’t look much older than 10. Also, she hadn’t spoken english to him. Which meant russian was her mother tongue. And it was almost certain she couldn’t or wouldn’t speak english.

Okay.

No problem, he could handle that. He just had to learn russian!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is literally going to be so long. We already have the outline for literally everything. Every single movie.
> 
> Please leave a comment to tell us what you think :)
> 
> Translation:  
> “Хватит искать меня.” : “Stop looking for me.”


	2. The One Where Tony Gets Punched In The Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing response to the first chapter! We're very excited for this story and happy that you are too <3
> 
>  
> 
> It's hard finding time to write together tho..... whoops

Four hours later, after hiding away in the library, Tony decided his Russian would do for at least basic conversations.

After coming to that conclusion, he also decided to test his pronunciation. Tony approached the bench where they had first met, Natasha was already waiting for him. That unsettled Tony a little. Did she know he was coming? Was she watching him? Or worse, had she been there all this time?

Well, he could ask her all these questions now he had the basics of Russian. He approached her gingerly, and said haltingly: “Здравствуйте, меня зовут Тони.”  
She scoffed at him and dismissed him by turning her head away with disdain.

Not one to give up easily, Tony tried again, deciding to be extra polite: “Как тебя зовут? Я надеюсь, что мы можем быть друзьями.”

She eyed him critically for a minute, her face became eerily blank. Her green eyes were apathetic and her face seemed incapable of moving. It reminded Tony a bit of his mother’s face when she had a bad day, or of a porcelain doll.

Natasha seemed to come to a conclusion and shot in rapid-fire russian: “Ты ожидаешь, что я буду с тобой дружить, когда ты даже не говоришь на моем языке? Сначала покажи мне свою ценность.”

Tony didn’t understand everything she just said, but he caught the end of her sentence. He understood that she wouldn’t speak to him before he knew Russian perfectly. He sighed as she disappeared once more. This would take more than a few hours.

Spinning on his heels, Tony exited the garden deciding to see Jarvis next and asked the butler to put all the books they had in Russian or about the USSR in his room. Tony had already found the books about learning Russian, but he figured he needed to be thorough if he wanted to have a chance to get to know Natasha.

She was intriguing, to say the least. And so utterly unimpressed by him that he felt the need to show her he wasn’t just a normal kid. He was not called a genius for anything, dammit! He would show her he could learn the language if he had to. Besides, it was always good to be able to speak Russian.

Howard had told him numerous times that it was “ _impervious to know your enemy, which means knowing their language, culture, and history. Captain America, bless his soul, knew German fluently and knew everything there was to know about Nazi Germany. You should take example on him, boy._ ” And if the Soviets weren’t the enemy, then who was?

Maybe Howard would be proud of Tony for learning Russian as well.

 

* * *

  
Three days and two sleepless nights later, Tony closed War and Peace.

It had been a strenuous reading, and Tony’s eye hurt from looking at so many words. However, he blindly reached out to grab another book from the pile. He reached for another book to read, only to realize he had gone through the whole pile.

_Oh, I’m done already? What time is it? What day is it?_

 

He winced as he saw it was only 4:30 in the morning. Had he read through the night?

It wasn’t his first all-nighter, anyone could tell you that, but usually when in the mansion Jarvis would try to get him to go to sleep at a reasonable hour. There was no one doing that at boarding school, though, so staying up late wasn't that out of the ordinary.

Tony chalked it up to Jarvis approving of his efforts to befriend Natasha. Well, if Jarvis approved, it couldn’t be a bad thing, right?

Tony stopped himself from running down to the gardens right away, pausing as he reached the stairway before remembering it was the middle of the night. Whoops. He needed to go to sleep before he did something embarrassing.

* * *

 

  
Trailing after Natasha for the better part of the hour, Tony talked about everything that came to mind, hoping to get a reaction out of her. When he had found her at the now familiar spot in the garden, he had immediately greeted her and tried to engage in a conversation, but she had only sent a calculating look his way before slowly slinking away. If she was irritated by his rambling, she was hiding it admirably. But Tony hadn’t spent 68.5 hours of learning Russian to just give up now. If she would just answer him, he would know what he had to do to gain her friendship.

* * *

 

  
The boy was still talking, Natasha thought. How could someone talk so much? Wasn’t it tiring? Wasn’t his throat getting dry? Why was he even trying? She had been dismissive and cold towards him, which would have deterred even the most enthusiastic kids. Yet he hadn’t even flinched, just kept coming back and trying again and again.

Natasha had been surprised when he said those first words in choppy Russian. All the adults and agents and handlers that had accompanied her to the Stark mansion hadn’t even bothered to ask if she could speak English. She could, of course. She wasn’t stupid. What good was it to be trained to be a master assassin if you couldn’t speak at least twelve languages?

But the boy was unnerving. He had actually taken the time to learn Russian. And he was speaking it almost fluently after only a few days. Of course, his pronunciation wasn’t perfect, but it was impressive nonetheless. He had to be a genius.

Natasha was begrudgingly impressed by the scrawny boy.

Tony.

But she was in unfamiliar territory and needed all the advantages she could get until she understood why she was here. The boy had first struck her as unimportant. He was untrained, obviously didn’t know whom she was judging by the lack of fear on his part. He was also a bit…clingy. The kid talked too much and didn’t seem to know when to stop. If he was in the red room he would’ve been forced to shut up already, no matter how smart he seemed, someone would’ve had him under control.

“Так на что похожа Россия?” Tony wondered out loud, fluttering around her. He continued in Russian asking, “Is it cold like New York, is it colder than New York?” He slid from her right side to her left. “Is it really strict over there. Is that why you’re not talking to me? Are your parents strict? They don't like you talking to other kids? Where are your parents any-”

Natasha had raised her fist as Tony said, “Where are your parents.” and it had landed before Tony could finish his sentence. Without his feet being properly planted, Tony toppled over with a loud thump. His big brown eyes somehow grew wider, and Natasha watched him sluggishly move to touch his jaw. If she had needed any evidence of his lack of training, she had it now. He had been caught completely by surprise and didn’t even try and defend himself. Interesting. Was he used to getting beat up? Or did he finally understand how dangerous she was?

Tony’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. _You were supposed to be different_ , he thought to himself as he cradled his face. _You didn’t even give me a chance_. If Tony had known better he would’ve thought Howard was the one to hit him or a bully from school. But it was Natasha whom he hadn’t even had a proper conversation with yet. What did he say that was so wrong? Why did he have to hit him? And so hard? What had he done? Why couldn’t she tell him what to do to make her listen to him?

 _But why would she even want to listen to you?,_ a traitorous part of his brain whispered back to him. _It’s not as if anything you say is actually interesting,_ the voice continued _. You know that, Howard has told you multiple times, and the kids at school sure confirmed it._

 

 

Howard was right, he was a pest. No one wanted to listen to the stupid things he had to say. He was just stupid and annoying. Maybe he deserved to be punched in the face. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut and left Natasha alone.

Natasha had already begun to walk away moving towards the maze. Tony’s eyes followed her but made no effort to follow. Why was he acting like a baby? All she did was hit him, and it wasn't like she hit him very hard. In the red room, it would’ve been nothing. Just a warning.

Her head was partially turned but she stopped herself from looking back. She wanted him to stop following her anyway, why should she care that he wasn’t going to trail after her. _Good_ , she thought. She didn’t need friends anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> “Здравствуйте, меня зовут Тони.” : “Hello, my name is Tony.”  
> “Как тебя зовут? Я надеюсь, что мы можем быть друзьями.”: “What is your name? I hope we can be friends.”  
> “Ты ожидаешь, что я буду с тобой дружить, когда ты даже не говоришь на моем языке? Сначала покажи мне свою ценность.”: “You expect me to be friends with you when you don't even speak my language? Show me your worth first.”  
> “Так на что похожа Россия?”: “So what’s Russia like?”
> 
>  
> 
> We were wondering if the POV changes are easy to read or not. Would you prefer us putting a break or any other symbol to show POV changes?
> 
> Please tell us what you thought of this chapter!


	3. The One With the Lonely Nerds

Two days later, Natasha startled when she walked up the stairs: the manor’s old grand staircase had creaked under her, and Natasha then knew something was wrong. You could never hear her footsteps, not even on days when her limbs felt a little too heavy after countless hours of practice in the red room. Pausing on the staircase, with one hand gripping the railing, she realized that it wasn't her that behaving abnormally. 

It was the manor. 

Why was the wood even creaking? And why did the sound surprise her that much?

The answer came to her as she listened to her surroundings: the manor was dead silent. She couldn’t hear any sound other than the creaking.

An eerie silence overcame her, it was unsettling. Why was it so quiet? Were they testing her? They had to be. Even in the Red Room were silence was valued, it wasn’t that quiet. The instructors could be heard through most doorways, the sound of weapons firing or the sounds of bodies hitting the floor in the sparring didn't leave much room for silence.

So why was it quiet? Why couldn’t she hear, at the least, the sound of the air conditioner that she knew they must’ve had to seeing as it was early June. She didn’t feel overly warm if they didn’t, it was an old manor. Natasha was smart. She had inspected her new surroundings as soon as she had stepped through the obnoxiously large front door of the manor. Were they expecting something of her? 

Natasha liked to think she was better than most people, she liked to claim she didn’t get paranoid, she was just smart. She was trained well, she was the best. Everything she noticed, every thought she had, was engineered to make her survive longer than her enemies. If she felt something was wrong, it was because there was effectively something wrong. But then why did she feel like a complete paranoiac when considering whether the silence was a test? She knew she wasn’t one, but still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being ridiculous when she considered whether the silence was intentional. 

The truth hit her like a bullet.

She had felt that way because she had let herself be lulled into a sense of safety. She had let her guard down. She had believed the woman who had brought her here when she said she’d no longer be training. Anger bubbled over Natasha, how could she be so stupid! She wasn’t safe here, she wasn’t safe anywhere. Forcing herself to continue up the stairs, her mind raced with new questions she wanted to have answered. 

Why her? Why this manor? Who exactly were the people that had stolen her from the Red Room?  Why weren't the other girls with her? And why was there a boy in the manor, all the Red Room agents she had been allowed to be around were other girls. They never allowed them to be around the other boys. So why Tony? Why was he nice to her, no one was ever nice to her.  If he was the only other child here, did he always feel like this?  

He had lived here his whole life from what Natasha could tell. Tony lived with unnatural silence and a creeping feeling that she couldn’t quite name yet. She considered it for a moment, reaching the top of the stairs. For one she wasn’t scared, not much did scare her anymore, and she trusted her skills. Natasha wasn’t nervous nor suspicious, and she concluded that that took paranoid off the list as well. Then what was she? Why did she feel so...alone?

Natasha noted how her heartbeat quickened at the thought, forcing herself to keep moving forward down the nearest corridor. The evening sun shone brightly from a large side window, lighting up the entire area. 

_I’m lonely_ , she said to herself. She had never been alone before, in the Red Room, there were other girls, instructors, and agents. In the manor, there was no one.  She no longer ate with 28 other girls, in fact now she ate her meals alone. In silence. People no longer kept her under constant surveillance, and no one had come to get her to train. 

She had never been lonely before. 

Did...Did Tony feel like this? 

From what Natasha had seen he was the only other child on the estate. Who did he spend his time with? There was barely anyone around, and in most cases, there was never anyone in the hallways beside herself. 

Was Tony like her? Was he lonely? Did no one train with him? Did he eat alone too? 

Her mind flashed to her past actions. When she had hit Tony, the boy hadn’t done anything. Natasha remembered how she had concluded that the older boy hadn’t had any training. Did his parents not train him? Was that normal?

Maybe she wouldn’t feel as lonely if she sparred with him. That was what she did with the other girls in the Red Room when they needed to feel the touch of another human being, even if it was something that hurt. Any touch was better than nothing. Maybe Tony wouldn’t be so terrible, maybe his guard was down the last time. 

Sighing, Natasha blew some of her hair out of her face. She was lying to herself, and she knew it. The boy’s guard wasn’t down, he just couldn't fight. If he could, then she would’ve never gotten the jump on him. Yet, she was desperate enough that she didn’t care. That was a new feeling as well, she had never felt desperate for anything before. 

She hated it. 

It needed to end. 

She wasn’t reckless. Tony wasn’t dangerous to her in any way, and if she could use him to make herself feel a little less lonely why shouldn’t she? 

With newfound resolve, she marched down the corridor to Tony’s room. He was reading a book about quantum physics when she opened the door, silently as always.

It took him two minutes and 23 seconds to realize she was in the same room as him, and when he did, he startled so badly he let the book fall from his hands. Natasha noted how he unconsciously flinched away from her, filing it away for later. 

When he didn’t say anything, just looked questioningly at her (and was there fear in his eyes?), she blurted out:  
“Ты хочешь бороться со мной?”

Tony stared at Natasha in disbelief.

Had she just _talked_ to him? As in, started a conversation with him? And in Russian, nonetheless!

It was a complete 180 from her previous behavior. The last time he had seen her, she had decked him in the face, for god’s sake! And now she was acting all friendly, at least, as friendly as a deadly predator could act. 

Tony internally freaked out over the fact that the girl who had hit him, only two days ago might he add for being too annoying, was deliberately talking to him. Meanwhile, Natasha shifted minutely, her green eyes stared at him waiting for an answer. She wasn’t sure if she had done the right thing in asking Tony for a spar. Who knew how he would react when he realized she was much better than him? What if he didn’t like the sparring?

Then she scolded herself. Why should she care about his opinion? He wasn’t important. The mission was.

Tony realized after a good minute that he hadn’t answered Natasha. And looking by her judging looks, she was waiting for him to get his act together.

_Way to make a good impression, Tony. Just gape at her instead of answering. God, I’m pathetic, he thought._

She had asked him to spar with her, right? But why sparring? Did she want to gauge how dangerous he was? (Yeah, because Tony was the dangerous one here.) Or was it just an excuse to beat him up some more? That would almost make sense, considering how their previous interactions had gone. 

Still. It was an opportunity for Tony to get to spend time with Natasha, and he’d take that in a heartbeat. Anything was better than just being on his own in his room.

Natasha seemed almost surprised when he said that yes, he’d love to go sparring with her, but she quickly schooled her expression into a blank face when she saw him looking. She nodded curtly, and added: “Следуй за мной.” 

Shit, were they doing it right now? Tony nearly broke out in a cold sweat at the thought of sparring with her so soon. _He wasn't mentally prepared yet, Jesus, he was going to die._

While they walked through the manor, Tony realized he should be the one showing her the way, as he was the one who had lived here his whole life. But somehow he doubted Natasha would take it well if he tried to take the lead. So he just followed her and didn’t comment when she walked past the door to the gym. 

Natasha didn’t pause as they passed the door to the gym and glanced briefly at Tony to see if he was going to say something. When he kept quiet, she smiled, satisfied. He respected her authority, which was a good thing she decided, she had more experience. 

Natasha led them outside to a grassy patch in the garden. It was far away from the manor to avoid inquisitive domestics and questioning looks, but still well within the confines of the gardens. Besides, there was a water stream less than a minute away, in case of injuries that needed to be washed. Not that she was planning on seriously injuring Tony, but she preferred to be prepared.

When she stopped in the middle of the clearing, she turned to Tony and ordered him to take off his jacket. As he did so, she placed herself a few paces from him and dropped into a fighting stance, shifting her feet so that the left one was in front, feet shoulder wide. She looked appraisingly at Tony as he mirrored her position. He wasn’t completely untrained, then. 

Circling one another, their eyes remained trained on each other. Tony made the first move, probably out of impatience, or trying for what he thought was a surprise attack.  
Unfortunately for him, Natasha had seen his punch coming from a mile away. She blocked his fist easily, barely stepping to the side. He tried to follow through with another punch, but it flew over her head as she crouched down, kicking his legs out from under him. He lost his balance, crashing to the ground as she straightened up and looked down at him. He looked back at her, surprise clear on his face. He seemed a little bit dazed, which wasn’t a surprise considering his head slammed against the hard dirt when he fell. Tony didn’t know how to fall properly to minimize damage.

Tony winced, rubbed his head, then frowned at Natasha.

_And now he’s going to say he doesn’t want to spar anymore, Natasha sighed internally._  

Instead, Tony rolled over and pushed himself up again. He was smiling slightly now, and looked at her with eager eyes when he said: 

“снова.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our tumblrs [ lomku](https://oluka.tumblr.com/) [ Okay-Stark](https://okay-stark.tumblr.com//)
> 
> Translations:  
> “Ты хочешь бороться со мной?” : “Do you want to spar with me?”  
> “Следуй за мной.” : “Follow me.”  
> “Снова.” : “Again.”
> 
> Also here are some of our messages that we thought were funny:  
> Okay-Stark: dude scarjo is 5'3  
> and rdj is 5'9  
> height jokes here we come  
> tony- i might be small, but I;m not that small . Right lil spider  
> scarjo- sure thing short stugg  
> stuff*
> 
> lomku: yesssss  
> goog
> 
> Okay-Stark: Natsha wears heels that make her Tony's hieght and mocks him because he cant wear them
> 
> lomku: 5'3 is really small tho
> 
> Okay-Stark: i knew i thought shed be like 5'6  
> or something  
> Is tony still angsty over not having friends?
> 
> lomku: ok im kidding im like as tall as scarjo
> 
> Okay-Stark: omh  
> you short  
> im 5'5
> 
> lomku: im 5'4  
> Okay-Stark: u a smol bean  
> lomku: :,(  
> only one inch less than u  
> so ure a small bean too
> 
> Okay-Stark: i will accpet that title with honor  
> i need typing classes  
> i suck  
> Xd
> 
> lomku: SAME  
> but tony would totally wear lifts or outrageous platforms shoes just to be taller than natahsa
> 
> Okay-Stark: of course  
> it's Tony


	4. The One Where They Learn How To Be Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having a 7-hour time-difference is not very practical to write..... Whoops

Natasha was more surprised than she cared to admit. She had thought for sure that Tony would’ve given up after the first time getting beaten, but here he was, standing proud and ready to go another round. 

She wondered how long he would hold out for. Approaching Tony for what felt like the hundredth time, Natasha jumped first intending to hook him in the jaw, but he blocked her punch with his forearm and retaliated with an elbow in her face. 

At least, that was what he tried to do, because instead he found himself on the ground once again, Natasha having grabbed his elbow and used his own momentum to throw him to the ground.

Tony let out a groan and rolled over onto his back. He spared a moment to stare at the sky, Natasha couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind. She supposed that’s what made him so interesting. He pushed himself up again, and shook himself to get rid of the dirt on his clothes. 

With a cheeky smile on his lips, Tony lazily raised his hands up saying: “снова.”

And so they continued, with Natasha besting Tony in every fight, but he always got up and repeated the same word: _again_. No matter what she did, whether she pinned him to the ground, had him in a lock, threw him over her shoulder or punched him in the face, he always got back up. It was commendable, and Natasha soon found herself smirking back at Tony whenever he smiled at her, tired but seemingly content. 

After half an hour, Tony was starting to show signs of tiredness. His movements were more sluggish, and his breathing ragged. Still, he never gave up. Even if he now had to wait several minutes between two fights, he always got up again. 

Natasha could have continued to spar for hours, but she knew that Tony would soon collapse from sheer exhaustion. For some reason, she didn’t want to push him to that point. He didn’t need the added humiliation of being too tired to even stand up anymore. Natasha almost missed her kick when she realised she was caring about Tony’s feelings. Since when did she care about him? She didn’t understand what she was doing. It wasn’t logical or rational, but there was a small part of her that wanted to keep a good relationship with Tony, just to be spared from being alone.

When Tony was visibly trembling despite his best efforts at hiding it, Natasha let her face fall into a mask of boredom. She looked haughtily at him and declared: “Мне эта игра надоела. Мы немедленно прекращаем.”

He looked up at her, his expressive brown eyes betraying his surprise, and his smile faltered.

Didn’t she want to spar with him? He had finally been able to spend some time with her, enjoying the sparring even if she was beating the crap out of him. It had made him feel alive, the dance of punches, kicks and throws they had been engaged in. But suddenly he doubted everything. Had she just used this as an excuse to beat him up? Or was it another weird habit of hers?

Now that the adrenaline of the fighting was ebbing off, Tony realised just how much he was aching. He was sure he was going to sport some massive bruises in a few hours, but he couldn’t get himself to feel bad about them. He had earned those bruises and done his best to defend himself. Those were honourable bruises.

Not like the ones Howard left.

Tony let himself fall back on the ground, crossing his legs in front of him and looking up at Natasha hopefully. She watched him, as he gradually grew more tense and seemed to shut off in front of her, preparing himself for yet another rejection.

Natasha surprised both of them when she sat down in front of him and took one of his hands. It had a scratch on the back from where he had tried to catch himself during a fall. There was still dirt and pebbles on his hands, which could lead to an infection. Natasha looked at Tony, who was staring in disbelief at her, and told him that he needed to wash himself to avoid complications in his injuries.

Tony watched her get up from her spot and walk towards the very back of the garden. _Where is she going?_ ,Tony wondered, there wasn’t anything behind the garden except for the woods that surrounded the estate.  There was nothing special about the woods either, it was typical of what you’d find anywhere in upstate New York. 

It wasn’t until Natasha was out of sight that Tony realized she was heading to the stream not too far from the grounds. Pushing himself off the ground, Tony rushed to catch up to her.

Natasha didn’t slow down for him, but Tony sprinted catching up easily. They both walked down to the stream, where Natasha stripped down, and motioned for Tony to do the same until he followed through. He was confused at first, was this a Russian thing? But then he watched her jump into the river, without the hesitation he normally had when doing it, so he followed after her, shivering in the cold water. 

Tony didn’t mind it though, especially after working up a sweat after sparring for so long. An idea came to mind, and he moved his arms to create a big wave. The wave hit Natasha in the face causing her to spit out water from her mouth. She looked at him, wide-eyed in confusion, not understanding what he was doing. DId he want to fight in the water?

He did it again, smirking at her and raising a challenging eyebrow. Natasha understood he wasn’t going for a fight, but she didn’t see the appeal of throwing water around, so she smacked her hand on the water, only making small droplets hit Tony in the face. 

“Is that all you got?” Tony provoked. In his mirth, he had forgotten to speak russian, but she didn’t mind. 

 _Does that smirk ever leave his face_ , Natasha wondered. She didn’t know it wasn’t a smirk, but rather, a smile of amusement. Copying Tony’s first motion, Natasha hit Tony with a wave of her own, and then the fight was on. They splashed water at one another, Tony laughing and Natasha smiling tentatively. There was something fun about splashing water around, she had to admit. 

After they tired, or more like after Tony tired, they lay down on the grass and let the sun dry them, while the clothes hanged on the nearest tree’s branches.

It was peaceful.

In a moment of rare vulnerability, Natasha caught Tony’s eye and shot him the flicker of a smile. He smiled back, tentatively, and then tipped his head back up to look at the clouds.

It felt as if they had come to a fragile new understanding, making their way from strangers to newfound allies.

When they were both dry, they dressed themselves, still in silence. But as he finished lacing his shoe, Tony quietly asked Natasha: “О, так ты умеешь танцевать?”

She shot him a confused look, and he clarified that he had overheard Aunt Peggy and Howard talking about the girls from the Dance Academy. He also mentioned that his mother had taught him to play the piano, and that he wasn’t too bad at it. So maybe they could…?

Natasha did not understand what he meant. Why didn’t Tony finish his sentence? Did he want to play the piano with her? But she had never learnt to play that instrument, she had still been mastering the violin before she was transferred to the Stark household. Or did he want to dance with her? 

She doubted he had the necessary agility and strength to do anything more than the most basic steps. 

It was frustrating, he needed to be clearer. So she told him:“Изясняйся понятнее. Чего ты хочешь?”

He answered that he thought she would maybe like to perhaps dance while he played the piano?

 _He really is insecure_ , she thought, but she didn’t say anything about it.

Instead, she nodded curtly and walked back to the mansion, Tony following on her heels and then taking the lead as they got inside the building. He directed them up a flight of stairs and down a long corridor to a beautifully carved wooden door. He knocked thrice on the wood, listened intently for a moment, then opened the door and beckoned Natasha in. He whispered to her that it was always important to check if the room was occupied before opening the door, answering her unspoken question about his behavior.

The room was subtly decorated, with a carved ceiling and polished wood panels. There was a grand piano in a corner of the room. Along the wall opposite the piano, multiple instruments were lined up: harp, cello, violin, and bass were standing next to a diverse array of wind instruments. A large cabinet was situated in the middle of the wall facing the door, undoubtedly filled with more music instruments and music sheets. The room was spacious enough that Natasha could dance unhindered, and luminous with its multiple windows. 

Tony gingerly sat down at the piano, wiping his hands on his pants before looking nervously at Natasha. She took off her shoes, stretching for a while, then nodded to Tony. She was ready.

He took a deep breath, put his hands on the keys, and began playing Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky. It was one of the first songs he learned after mastering the basics of the piano, and the sad but powerful melody always enthralled him, swept him away in a powerful hurricane of emotions. 

Natasha knew the choreography to the song, and started dancing to the soft notes. She noticed how it sounded more elegant than the recording they used in the Red Room. It was easy for her to get lost in the steps and the familiar movement. For the first time, dancing was more than a means to an end, it was enjoyable, even fun. She couldn’t remember the last time she had danced without the fear of punishment should she do wrong. It was freeing, to dance without the weight of expectations of the madams of the Red Room.

Tony only glanced up once from the keys, but smiled broadly at Natasha as she spun around the room. He watched her for a few seconds, marveling at how graceful she was. Tony felt a small pang of jealousy over her fluid movements, but it quickly went away when he saw the small smile on her face. _Good_ , he thought, _she should be enjoying herself._  

It was easy to get lost in the moment, and neither noticed how the hours went by, only realizing when Jarvis found them for dinner. 

Jarvis looked at the two children and smiled to himself, happy that they were finally getting along. It was high time Tony got a friend.

* * *

 

During the following days, Natasha and Tony spent more time together than not. They talked, or more accurately Tony chatted away in both russian and english, and Natasha listened to what he said, occasionally commenting on his never-ending ramblings. They switched between russian and english, because Natasha wanted to practice her english. They sparred a little bit, but they mostly played games. Tony had been appalled when she had told him she didn’t have the time to play and do insignificant things where she was before, and he had vowed to teach her all the games he knew. Admittedly, he didn’t have much experience in playing either, but she didn’t need to know that. So what if he spent his time alone on some experiment? Now that she was here, they could play together.

Which was how they found themselves playing hide and seek.

Pausing as he passed the table, Tony’s eyes scanned from the sitting room with a careful eye. In the back of his mind Tony knew there were no hiding spots in the room, or at least none that Natasha would go for. She was smart, he considered her one of the smartest people he knew, and that’s saying something when the smartest people he knew were Howard and Jarvis. So he knew she’d be in one of the harder spots. Also, she was some kind of scary ninja, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she found a hiding spot he had never thought of before.

He had a list of three of the hardest spots he knew, yet he had not approached them yet. _This game isn't for me_ , he confessed to himself. No, he was doing this for Natasha who had never played a game of hide and seek in her life. What did she do at that Dance School? Tony had assumed that since Natasha was surrounded by other children, especially ones her age, that she’d would’ve had a childhood more normal than his. 

 _How could I be so wrong_ , he thought walking out of the sitting room and into the showroom. The display cases were gleaming having recently been cleaned, and his father’s degrees and awards filled them. Tony never liked the display room, most days it felt like it haunted him, and most days he avoided it like the plague. Natasha’d never played this though, and he wanted to give her the whole experience. Besides Tony never played it with someone his age before, only ever Jarvis and Ana. 

Purposely, Tony stepped on every creaky floorboard, so that Natasha could hear him coming. 

Cursing while hiding in the servants passage way, Natasha turned away from the hidden opening and ran up the stairs. Her feet hitting each step with almost no sound at all, which she considered an accomplishment seeing as they looked about eighty years old. 

_There's so many rooms on the estate, how did he get so close so fast?_

Natasha stopped at the top floor heading into the passageway that belonged to the East Wing. The hidden hall was more narrow than the one on the first floor, but it wasn’t a problem with her small size.

Meanwhile, Tony continued to walk through each room until he finally reached the third floor. As he approached it, he made his steps silent from years of practice of sneaking behind his father’s back when he’d had too much to drink. Natasha strained to hear from behind the wall. 

 _God, he’s taking forever_ , she chided crossing her arms over her chest. However, she was unaware that Tony had entered from an entrance in the West Wing. His eidetic memory helping him step over creaky boards, he moved towards her letting the darkness hide him. Natasha’s red hair still could be seen in the dark. 

 _I better enjoy this before she gets too good_ , Tony thought. Natasha faced the wall, so her back was to the other. Yet, she was still clueless to the boy next to her. 

Jumping out from the dark Tony shouted. “Boo!” 

He reached out for her, only to find a cold hand bending his wrist. 

“Ow ow OW,” Tony whined, being forced to kneel on the floor. 

Natasha dropped his wrist in surprise. How did he sneak up on her? Oh no, did she hurt him? She hadn't meant to do that.

Picking himself off of the floor, Tony clutched his wrist with a slightly strained smile.

“I still found you though,” he bragged. 

 _Why does he never complain about pain? He must get hurt often_ , Natasha wondered who hurt him. She saved the idea for later, but felt reassured since Tony wasn’t mad at her. He never was, and Natasha couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing. She smiled coyly anyway, declaring. “It won't happen again.” 

“Probably not,” Tony conceded. Then he perked up, exclaiming: “It’s your turn to find me now!”, and ran down the hall.

Natasha watched him go, smiling to herself.

_This is fun._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Tksen's kind help, our Russian sentences are actually correct now, instead of some shady google translate X )
> 
> Translations:  
> "Мне эта игра надоела. Мы немедленно прекращаем.": “I’m bored of this game. We will stop now.”  
> "О, так ты умеешь танцевать?": “So, you can dance?”  
> "Изясняйся понятнее. Чего ты хочешь?":“You need to be clearer. What do you want?”
> 
> Please leave comments to tell us what you think <3


	5. The One Were Natasha Joins A Fandom

Peggy was waiting anxiously for the phone. She hoped, with all her being, that Nick would be able to house the girl, he was her last option.

“Fury speaking,'' came the answer after the fourth ring.

“Hello, this is director Carter. I trust you are familiar with the recent mission in Russia. We have a situation with one of the recovered girls, she requires relocation but we haven’t found her a new home.”

The line was silent for a suspiciously long time.

“And why are you calling me, director?”

Peggy hesitated, but she knew she had to lay all her cards on the table for Nick to even consider what she was about to suggest.

“I was hoping you’d consider taking her in.”

“I… Taking her in? For how long? Like a surrogate father?” Fury was surprised, within good reason. He was 32, still single, and not fitting the typical father image, the man was practically married to his job, likely to never settle down with a partner. Still, Peggy had a feeling in her gut that he would do a good job.

“Yes, exactly like a surrogate father. She is not an ordinary girl, she was one of, if not the best of her class. I believe you would be suited to take care of her.”

“What about my missions? She would be alone weeks, sometimes months, at a time.”

“We’d figure something out. Please think about it and call me back when you’ve made your choice.”

Peggy ended the call and sighed. Now she just had to wait for his decision.

* * *

It came two days later.

Peggy was signing paperwork in her office when the phone rang. She picked up, and answered: “Director Carter speaking.”

“Ma’am, this is Fury. I’ll do it, I’ll take the girl, as soon as I’m done with the mission.”

Peggy breathed out, finally able to relax about the Red Room case. She smiled to herself, already picturing the gruff and tough agent taking care of the fiery girl.

The mission would take another three months, but she hadn’t heard any complaints from Howard, so she supposed the girl could stay at the Stark’s for the time being. She was sure that Tony would appreciate it.

“We’ll arrange everything. Thank you, agent. And good luck on your mission.”

She ended the call, feeling lighter than ten minutes before.

 

* * *

 

  
Natasha trailed after Tony, following him into his room. She’d been in it briefly before when they played, but most times they played outside in the garden or hung out in the piano room. It was a sunny day outside, so Natasha was confused as to why they were inside. Either way, she hid her confusion and sat down on Tony’s large bed.

“Be ready for your life to change forever,” Tony declared, stepping into his walk-in closet. He switched the light on and moved to the back of his closet. Shoving away his clothes Tony called out to Natasha, “Get in here!”

What is he doing? He’s so weird, Natasha thought and not for the first time in the two months she’d known him. She went into the closet anyway raising an eyebrow at Tony, who sat on the floor. He patted the floor next to him signaling for her to take a seat, Natasha almost asked if they could go outside instead of doing whatever it was he wanted to do. She held in her request remembering that the day before Tony had let her practice knife throwing, with him as a target.

Pulling out a flathead screwdriver from god knows where Natasha watched as Tony shoved it into a panel of the back wall to pry it open.

“Howard says I’m too old for these,” Tony said, shoving his hand into the hole in the wall. “But Aunt Peggy and the Jarvis’s used to buy them for me all the time.” He pulled out a plastic bag handing it over to Natasha, before reaching out for another one. “But now I mostly just sneak out and go to the comic shop in town.”

Staring down at the bag in her hand, Natasha sent Tony an unimpressed look.

“Open it,” Tony commanded. Natasha had noticed that he did that a lot, saying something like it was a command when in reality it was just a request. She’d learned not to get annoyed or violent when he did this, she supposed he was just replicating what he saw in his father. Reaching her hand in, she pulled out a stack of papers. Tony stared expectantly at her, waiting for a response.

She could tell that hers wasn’t what he expected. What did he want from her? It was just paper.

Tony, however, wasn’t discouraged, “It’s Captain America!”

Tony pointed at the man on the cover. He was standing on a destroyed tank, posing in his ridiculous red-white-and-blue outfit with a big red and white shield. He even had a cowl with little white wings on it!

“I’m Russian,” Natasha said deadpan. The _‘why would I know or even care about a man named Captain America,’_ went unsaid, but was implied.

“He’s famous!” Tony shouted sounding offended on the man's behalf. “He fought in World War II with the Howling Commandos.”

Tony grabbed more of the packets spreading them out on the floor around them. He then began to explain more, “They made comic books about him after the war, and then later about the Commandos.” He moved to pick up another issue pointing to a man who stood behind Captain America. “That’s his best friend Bucky, he’s a Commando too.”

Tony noted the bored expression on Natasha’s face, and he became more determined to make her like them. Setting down the comic with Bucky on it he reached back into the bag grabbing some old photographs that Aunt Peggy gave him. He held it up to her.

“This is the real-life Captain America aka Steve Rogers,” He told her pointing at a big man with an obscenely large helmet on his head that had goggles on top of them. Natasha’s eyes moved over Steves ripped jacket and the dirt on his face. She would admit that he was handsome, with his broad shoulders and squinty pout. Her attention moved away from Steve when Tony moved his finger to point at the other man in the photo slightly behind him, “And there’s Bucky next to him.”

“Aunt Peggy says that they knew each other since they were kids,” Tony informed her seriously, “Younger than us even.”

Wow, she couldn’t imagine what that was like, knowing someone for your whole life. The thought had never crossed her mind, there had never been a person who was a constant in her life, so the idea of someone being there for her until the day she died was strange. What was a bond like that like? What if she never had one? What if she died alone?

Tony was frozen as well. His gaze fell away from the mess around them staring at his clothes instead. He was losing himself in thoughts: he never had a friend before Natasha, he hoped he was doing a good job. He assumed he was doing a good job. If he was a good friend would Natasha stay? Would she grow tired of him? How long until she got annoyed?

Slowly both came back to the present, and green eyes met brown.

“That’ll be us when we’re older,” Tony said with shocking sincerity and more than just a little hope. A warm feeling engulfed Natasha as she watched Tony pick up another photo. She admired how he always seemed so sure about the future, always positive that everything would work out. Natasha, on the other hand, was more skeptical. It wasn't that she was worried, per se, she just never had hoped for good things to happen to her, not until she met Tony.

Tony, the boy who had great plans and ideas about how he could make the world better. He believed in the future, and Natasha had never believed in anything that wasn't certain.

This time with a different photo in hand Tony talked about the scrawny man in the center frame. Was that Steve? Natasha stared in shock. Confirming her thoughts Tony spoke up, “This is Steve before he had gotten the Super Serum. Before he had been sickly according to Aunt Peggy, and he couldn’t do a lot. But Howard and a few other scientists made the serum to make him big and strong.”

“Why him?” Natasha couldn’t stop herself from asking. Why not someone bigger? Why not someone who wasn’t frail and sickly?

Tony sat still for a moment collection his thoughts, and what came out of his mouth surprised Natasha.

“Because he was a good man.”

Good? What did that mean? Good? Why would that matter?

Her confusion must have shown on her face because Tony tried to explain his words.

“If you were to pick a soldier would you choose one who only followed commands?” Tony asked her.

“Yes.” It was obvious to Natasha, a soldier or agent lived to obey. The higher-ups always knew best. And even if you disagreed, you obeyed, because otherwise, the punishment would be terrible.

“Hmm, but what if a mission was to kill someone innocent?” Tony tried to explain better. “That’s not something exactly moral, so then the soldier finds himself in a dilemma: should they follow the orders like a good soldier, or should they go against his orders and do what they believe is right? There are good and bad consequences whatever the soldier does, of course. But sometimes it’s morally better to go against orders. Like for example when a law is discriminatory, you’re morally compelled to disobey the law.”

“Do you have an example?” Natasha asked him because she had never heard of that when she was in the Red Room.  
Tony thought hard for a few seconds but then he brightened up.

“Yes, so I assume you know about what the nazi government did in Germany. They had lots of laws that were morally wrong, for example, they threw political opponents in prison camps. Oh, wait, they do that too in the USSR. Uh… Jewish people. Hitler was very antisemitic, and he ordered the deportation and genocide of Jewish people, among others. The law said that it was illegal to hide Jewish men and women. But there were a lot of citizens that went against the law and helped Jewish people by hiding them in their houses or giving them false identities, and they saved their lives. So in that example, it was better morally to disobey the law. Do you get it?”

Natasha nodded, showing that she understood, and it made her wonder about some of the things she had seen and done in the Red Room. She needed to learn more about some historical events because her version was almost always different from Tony’s version of history.

Tony continued, “So Steve Rogers was one of those men that always did what was morally right, even if his orders went against it. He was a good man, and he saved many people because of that. He believed in doing what was right even when it wasn’t a popular opinion. For example, he saved hundreds of prisoners of war, including Bucky, even when the army told him he couldn’t, and that all hope was lost. He inspired the soldiers to be better, and he is still a hero today.”

Looking at Tony, Natasha understood that he was one of those looking up to Captain America. He must be a hero to Tony, she thought.

Tony who could imagine a future where they remained friends, who could picture one in which she would grow up to be happy, so she believed him because those were good things. Things she didn’t even know she had wanted until she had met Tony.

With his oldest comic still in hand, Tony opened it up showing it to her and began to read the story in front of him. It was the one right after Steve had rescued Bucky, and Natasha enjoyed the Narrator's voice Tony used, giggling when he deepened his voice for Steve and Buckys voices.  
Soon enough, she became enraptured in the story, gasping when the captain defied yet another dastardly plan of the Red Skull, laughing when Bucky cracked a joke to Dum Dum Dugan and enjoying the adventures of the Howling Commandos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Random Dialogue from our chat (because I don't reveal something I'm not supposed to- Okay_Stark):
> 
> Okay_Stark: also if find it hilarious how you were like NO STONY  
> like fucking mood for mcu
> 
> Lomku: ahaha yeahhhhhh  
> MCU STONY is on thin fucking ice 
> 
> Okay_Stark: i fucking love you
> 
> (this wasnt meant to offend anyone)
> 
>  
> 
> Image of Steve and Buck is when theyre dressed like this 


	6. The One Where They Realise They Will Need to Part

I don't want to be here, Tony thought to himself, shifting in the visiting chair in Howard's office. His father’s large chair loomed over him, its presence intimidating even if the man in question wasn’t sitting on it.

Howard entered the room, and Tony stilled in his seat. He wanted to turn around and meet his father's gaze head on, but he knew better than that. Instead, he willed himself to sit straighter, and willed his face to become expressionless. With grace that surprised Tony every time, his father took the seat in front of him. Tony kept his eyes lowered to the desk, waiting for his father to start speaking. 

“You would think,” Howard began, “that by now you’d have learned how to dress properly.” 

Tony looked down at what he was wearing. He had been outside with Natasha before he had been called up, and his outfit reflected that. His shirt was one of his favorites, and anyone with a brain could tell by how worn it looked. Tony wore jeans that were stained with oil from earlier before Natasha had dragged him out of his inventing spree. 

Tony was comfortable in his clothes. The suits Howard wore looked constricting, he knew that for a fact, since he had to wear one every time he made a public appearance. 

“You’re not a child anymore,” Howard continued. Tony fixed his gaze onto the top of Howard's head, it was a trick he had learned at a young age, which made it seem like he was looking at his father when he really wasn't. “I have told you over a thousand times that you need to act your age, but obviously I’m not getting anything through your thick skull.” 

The bruises on Tony’s lower stomach would like to disagree. Tony, in general, would like to disagree, but he knew better. Knew better than to speak out of turn, or to object to any ideas his father had. So he continued to remain still, instead, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. 

“You will be going to a boarding school from now on, to learn about real life. You’ve been slacking off this summer, not acting how you should, but at Phillips Academy, they will teach you how to become a real man. You have one week to pack your belongings, and I will expect you to be on your best behavior when there. Remember, you represent the Stark family, and I don’t want to hear about you getting into trouble, or worse, about you being a soft little boy. It’s time you acted like a man, Tony. You can’t play with girls at your age. It’s childish,” Howard said haughtily. 

Tony didn’t know how to react. Several emotions were warring to take control; he wanted to cry because he wouldn’t live at home anymore, wouldn’t see Jarvis every day, would be alone with strangers. He wanted to scream at Howard that Natasha wasn’t just any girl, that she was fierce and cunning and would certainly be able to best Howard in combat. He wanted to stand proud and declare that he would never disgrace the Stark name, because he was a genius and would soon know more about electronics than his own father. But he did none of these things. Instead, he lowered his eyes submissively and muttered: “Yes, sir.”

Howard sent him out of the office with an impatient wave of the hand. Tony was about to run to find Natasha when he heard the phone ring and Howard answering with: “Peggy, any news on the girl?”

_The girl? They must be talking about Natasha!,_ Tony realized. He crept closer to the door, hid in the shadows just like Natasha had taught him to, and listened intently.

Howard was listening to Peggy speak, humming and tapping his fingers against the desk. Finally, he exclaimed:

“Great! When will he pick her up? … In three months? What was his name again? … Fury. Noted. I’m glad you found a foster parent; she needs to leave the house. … Because she’s a bad influence on Anthony. … Well, you haven’t seen them together, I hardly expect you to understand. … Yes. … Good. Goodbye.” 

Howard hung up, and Tony crept away to the garden. His mind was running a mile a minute, trying to make sense of the one-sided conversation. They had obviously been talking about Natasha, and it seemed they had found someone that would take her in. A man, called Fury. Or was it his codename? 

Tony was so deep in thoughts that he almost walked into Natasha where she was standing in the middle of one of the paths. He looked up, eyes wide, and blurted:

“I think you’re going to leave our house soon.”

Immediately, Natasha frowned at him and demanded explanations. After he had relayed the conversation between Howard and Aunt Peggy to her, she stared at a rose bush near them, not saying a word. After several minutes, she turned back to him, sighing and murmuring: “We both knew I would leave at one point. At least Fury will only come in three months. We still have time.”

The pained look she got in response was enough to make her suspicious. She didn’t need to ask why he was giving her this look, since he explained it himself:

“Howard’s sending me to a boarding school, it starts next week. He wants me to man up. But I—I would rather stay here, be with you and the Jarvis’s and Mom and…”

He cut himself off, fighting back the tears he knew were gathering beneath his eyes. He couldn’t cry. _Stark men don’t cry_. But it was just so _unfair_ , that he couldn’t be with the people he loved, just because his bastard of a father wanted him gone from his sight. He hated Howard. He hated him, he wanted to—

Natasha hugged him, and he forgot what he was thinking. It was the first time she had initiated touch, and she was _hugging_ him. It was...very nice. He hugged her back, sniffling a little, burying his face in her shoulder. She didn’t say anything, just held him tight.

They stayed in the embrace for a long time, until Tony had put himself back together and she told him it would be okay. 

* * *

  


The long strands of grass tickled the shell of Natasha’s ear as she lay on her back looking up at the night sky. 

Tony, who had yet to follow suit, was sitting in the wild grass.  He looked at the forest surrounding them, and supposed he was lucky that his boarding school would still be on the upper east coast. He could admit he would’ve missed the woods that came with its territory. 

A loud cricket was chirping near them, frequently interrupting their silence until Natasha spoke up, asking: 

“Do you think he’ll be nice?” 

Tony didn't need her to clarify who “He” was, he already knew who she was talking about. They had talked a lot about the future, in the past week, and Fury had been one of the main subjects of conversation. Finally flopping down on his back, Tony turned his head to look at her. “I wouldn't worry about that, you'll have him wrapped around your finger, whether it’s in fear or out of respect, I don't know yet.” 

Natasha was silent before humming in agreement, she liked that answer. It reassured her and made her more confident in her abilities. Before Tony, she never knew she needed reassurance in anything, but if she truly thought about it people had reassured her in the Red Room. They just weren’t kind about it.  

“You think I’ll be better off at boarding school than here?” Tony asked her in return, his gaze moving from her and to the sky above them. The stars always seemed to be brighter on the estate than anywhere else, Tony wanted to chalk it up to light pollution, but it felt like more than that. 

“Probably not,” Natasha answered, she silently smirked to herself. “I won't be there.” 

Tony let out a huff of air, amused by her. 

Rolling his eyes, Tony sarcastically replied, “Oh, how will I ever survive without you?”

A small smile rested on Natasha’s face, and she spared Tony a glance. His hair had grown out and was longer than when she first met him. His curls were plastered against his forehead because of the lingering summer heat, and it looked darker than it did during the day. Her own hair had gotten longer as well, and for the first time that she could remember, it went past her shoulders. Mrs. Jarvis, Natasha could practically hear Tony telling her to call her Ana, had taken to braiding it to keep it out of her face. Tony had even tried a few times and had been getting better at it. 

“It’s hard to believe that stars are made up of a bunch of atoms when they shine as big and bright as they do.” Tony mused out loud. He did this often, think out loud, and Natasha knew he wasn’t really looking for a response from her. She liked that he did this, and she supposed she would even miss it when he was gone. It was just inherently _Tony_.  He continued to speak, “I mean it's just a bunch of hydrogen and helium, that will go on to create different elements all on its own.”

Tony went quiet. 

“But you know what’s crazy?” 

Natasha didn't reply, most often than not, she did not know “what’s crazy”. Only Tony knew, and it was best to let him finish his train of thought, anyway.

“Those stars, when they die, they scatter their atoms in space. And those atoms are what constitute planets, nebulae, asteroids, but also living beings. What we see here around us, the grass, the trees, even _us_ , is made of matter that once belonged to stars. We are made from stardust. It’s quite poetic when you think of it: atoms from dead stars made us, and when we die, the cycle will continue. In the end, everything will go back to the stars. Our bodies will disintegrate, turn to dust, and in a few billion years, the sun will die, and take Earth with it. And then our atoms will float in space, during an eternity of time. But at one point they will aggregate, and a new star will be born. Everything here, made out of stardust, will always end up with the stars again.” 

“So in the end, we’ll all be together”, Natasha commented. “Even if we die far from each other, like Steve and Bucky, our atoms can still end up next to each other.” 

“Well I mean—” Tony started but cut himself off. He wanted to say that Steve and Bucky’s atoms were not yet scattered in the air, that one of them was trapped in snow and ice and the other lost in the ocean, but she had a point. A loose strand of hair from Bucky could still be stuck in Captain America’s suit. And then they would be together, even beyond their deaths.

“I’m not saying we die together,” Natasha proclaimed, “Because it’ll probably be me who kills you. I’m just saying we will always end up together, no matter what.” 

“You shouldn’t announce who you’re going to kill.” 

“I'd still get away with it.” 

Tony didn't disagree. He turned to face Natasha, and stammered quietly:

“Hey, uh. I—I’m the Bucky to your Steve, right?” He didn’t quite dare look her in the eyes, afraid she wouldn’t agree with him. He swallowed, waiting for her reply. 

“Yes. We’re best friends, just like them.”

She said it with a quiet conviction as if it was the most logical thing in the world, and Tony beamed at her.

“Really? That’s—that’s great, I mean, yes, of course, we’re best friends. You’re my best friend. And Bucky and Steve, they had this sentence they said to each other, to show that they would stay best friends until they died.”

“ ‘Til the end of the line’ “, Natasha quoted. She was almost as besotted as Tony about the comics now, and she knew the best lines already.

“Yes. We need a sentence for us. I thought... I thought we could say ‘Until we join the stars’, since we’re going to go back to the stars when we die and I really like space and it could be--”

“Okay”, Natasha interrupted him, smiling faintly. She could tell Tony’s ramblings apart now when he was excited, curious or nervous. Now was definitely a nervous rambling, and those were best cut off before Tony’s insecurities got the best of him.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. When one of us leaves, we say ‘until we join the stars’. It’ll be our sentence.”

And that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, look at that, we're actually updating every week!!
> 
> please leave kudos and comments to tell us what you think :D


	7. The One Where They Split Up

The next days went by too fast. They tried to spend as much time together as they could, but it still seemed as though only a few hours had passed when Jarvis interrupted them during a ballet session to help Tony pack his bags. Natasha walked with them and sat on Tony’s bed, watching as the two of them milled around choosing clothes and other belongings that would go with Tony to the boarding school. It was mildly fascinating to see the number of garments Tony had: several closets were filled with them, and he packed nearly half of it in the heavy leather suitcases Jarvis had brought down from the attic. Socks, shirts, pull-overs, shoes, pants, shirts, underwear, anything, and everything, all made from the finest fabrics and leathers. Natasha didn’t fully understand why he had to have so many clothes. When she was in the Red Room, she had had two sets of clothing only, washing one set while she wore the other. She had managed fine for years, and the extravagance of having more clothes than one would wear in a month was mind-boggling. She supposed it was a show of wealth, it was not like she knew much about living in luxury anyway.

Tony packed a suitcase full of books too, recreational literature as well as manuals and physics or mechanics course literature. He wanted to pack one of his tool kits, but Jarvis reminded him that he would not be allowed to experiment and tinker on his own in his room. They look pitiful look Tony gave the kit made Natasha’s heart constrict in sympathy.

Tony tried to play it cool, but she could see that he was upset at having to leave behind one of his favorite pass-times. Tony loved to build stuff, always rambling about his latest inventions or robots to Natasha, and she knew how important it was for Tony. It broke her heart a little as she imagined Tony sitting alone in his dorm room, staring glumly at his hands and not doing anything with them.

Turning away from the kit, Tony moved to add another band t-shirt to the pile in his bag. However, Jarvis stopped him, placing a hand on his arm, “Your father said to only allow you ten of those ‘horrific shirts’, and there’s already ten in there Anthony.”

Natasha looked down into the bag, and though she couldn’t count the number of shirts because of how they were placed, she knew Jarvis was right. Besides Tony was bound to sneak more shirts than he was allowed, so Jarvis stopping Tony was only a formality than anything. Still holding the shirt in his hand, he turned towards Natasha.

“You can have it if you want,” Tony told her, holding it out.

“Why?”

Confused Tony asked, “Why what? Why am I giving it to you?”

“Yes,”

“Because I can't wear it,” He explained, “And you can.”

He shoved the article of clothing closer to her. She didn’t understand why she would want to wear his clothes, but Natasha accepted the gift anyway. Taking the black sabbath shirt, Natasha held it close to her chest, unintentionally hugging it.

They continued to pack leaving Natasha to ponder her thoughts as she watched. She couldn't remember the last time someone had given her something without an ulterior motive. _Had Tony given her this gift without any real intentions? And if he did, were they only good?_

Of course, she answered, it’s Tony. When had the older boy ever did something with ill intentions? It was odd to be happy to receive something, Natasha noted. It was nice to be given something randomly, and from someone you were fond of.

After a few hours, Jarvis and Tony were finally done with packing. They were just about to close the last suitcase when Natasha got an idea:

“Wait!” At her outburst, Tony and the butler looked at her in bewilderment as she unmade the braid she had had during the day. She slipped the black ribbon she had used to close the braid off her hair and gave it to Tony.

“Here, so you can continue practicing on braiding.”

He took it silently, blinking fast. He was holding back his tears, Natasha realized. She was a bit moist-eyed too if she was being honest. They both knew she had given the ribbon so that he would have something to remind him of her, and the gesture was apparently enough to make them both emotional.

They didn’t notice the fond look Jarvis sent them.

* * *

  
She heard the car long before it pulled up on the curb. It was one of the Ford cars the American seemed so fond of, painted a matte black. A man stepped out from behind the driver’s wheel and walked briskly towards the front entrance. From where she was hidden behind the curtains of her window on the first floor, she could watch him without getting discovered. He was black American, had short dark hair and sharp eyes. He looked fit and alert, the outline in his suit jacket hinted that he was armed.

 _Well_ , she thought, _at least he’s not a civilian._

He was let in by Jarvis before she could observe the man further. She crept down the corridor, careful not to make a sound, and stopped just at the top of the stairs to listen to the conversation drifting up from the living room.

“My mission went well, Mr. Stark. No casualties on our part and we retrieved what we were looking for. I came back to the states yesterday, I’m still a bit jet-lagged,” a deep voice was saying. Natasha guessed it was the stranger’s voice, as she didn’t recognize it. She couldn’t see the men in the room, but Stark would surely be seated in his favorite armchair, sipping scotch or bourbon or whatever liquor was nearest. He was talking about their spy organization to the stranger, which meant the stranger was most likely an agent working for them.

Natasha wasn’t surprised when she heard Stark say: “Well, Agent Fury. Let’s get down to the reason you’re here. Jarvis?”

Ten seconds later, the Butler was walking up the stairs to where Natasha had stood up from her previous crouch. He watched her silently for some time, then sighed almost imperceptibly and told her softly: “Sir asks for your presence in the living room, but I think you already knew that, Natasha.”

He wasn’t wrong, of course, but she nevertheless didn’t answer him, just walked down the stairs and entered the room where the two men were seated. Stark glanced fleetingly at her, as uninterested as always, and turned back to his glass. Fury, on the other hand, took her small but fierce figure in and kept his eyes to her face, as if he was searching for something. She stared back at him, noting small details she hadn’t seen earlier: He had small bruises and cuts on his hands, his body posture was relaxed but alert, and his gaze on her was almost calculating. He struck her like a man that was smart and cunning, and who knew his worth.

Natasha shifted her weight a little, subtly taking on a defensive pose. It would be invisible to the untrained eye of Stark, but she wanted to see if Fury would pick up on it. The only indication that he did was the glint in his eye that hadn’t been there before: the slight curiosity had been replaced with approval. This is going to be interesting, Natasha thought. She wanted to test him, see how far she could go before he would react and end their little game. But Fury didn’t rise to the bait when she bared her teeth at him in a challenging smile.

Instead, he smiled back, almost gently, and said, “Hello, my name is Nicholas Fury, but you can call me Nick. I’m going to be your foster parent for the foreseeable future. What’s your name?”

His question threw her off because surely he should know what her name was? He looked expectantly at her though, and that was when she understood. He wanted to know how she wanted him to call her, giving her the choice instead of assuming he could call her Natasha. It was surprisingly thoughtful, and for a moment she almost considered telling him her preferred name, but in the end, she decided against it. Stark was with them in the room, and besides, she didn’t trust Fury yet. He was promising, but appearances can deceive. She was a striking example of that.

“Natasha,'' she responded, not bothering with any niceties.

* * *

 

Dear Natasha,

I had to ask Jarvis for your new address. I hope that Agent has been treating you well. If not I’m sure we can figure out a way to get you back to the mansion. Though Aunt Peggy vouches for him, and she’s usually a good judge of character.

Who would’ve known that boarding school is a synonym for hell hole? I think we did, didn’t we?

It’s shitty here. Everyone is older than me here, like always.

You wouldn’t like any of them.

Sometimes I imagine you doing that one arm flippy thing to them. Yesterday in class I got in trouble for laughing out loud as I imagined you punching Stone in the face. Oh, yeah by the way Tiberius Stone goes here as well. He’s the dickbag I told you about, the one I knew from the fancy galas that my dad makes me go to.

All in all, it’s been pretty lame. During the night I break into the school's labs, and I think you would be a little bit proud of my methods of sneaking around. I’d say the only good thing that’s come out of this school is that I’m so bored, I’ve come up with twice as many ideas.

I’ll be home for Thanksgiving, you should ask that Agent of yours if you can spend it with us. It would be nice to see you as soon as possible, I’ve missed you a lot.

-Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is way smaller than any of the other ones we've posted. It's sometimes hard to find the perfect writing time because there is a six-hour time difference between us. We both do truly love this story, so honestly, it's not that big of a deal for us. Also, we sometimes are too busy to write, it might cause us to be inconsistent sometimes. If there is no chapter one week then that's why.
> 
> We have a timeline already made all the way until Endgame, and we both want to finish this story. 
> 
> So...there is a lot more to come. 
> 
> (By the way, we lowkey figured out the ships and holy shit I am excited, WOW)
> 
> This message was brought to you by: Okay-Stark, because it's 1 am for Lomku and I was put in charge of posting.
> 
> Leave a comment letting us know what you think, or any predictions you have. <3


	8. The One Where Tony Gets An Unexpected Visit

Sitting at his desk, Tony looked out the window of his dorm room. The window faced the forest that lined the property and faced west allowing Tony a view of the sunset. It was a nice enough room, if not a little bit lonely. While other boys had roommates, Tony did not. Most in his grade had been attending the school for years and had already found a permanent roommate to share the room with. Besides, even if there was someone, they probably wouldn’t want to room with someone younger than them, Tony concluded.

Tearing his eyes away from the view, Tony went back to working on the new design plan for a project he had already completed. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the finished version, he simply was bored, and had the time to upgrade it. The homework at school wasn’t hard and he didn't have his father around to bother him, so Tony had a lot more time on his hands than he was used to.

It wasn’t that he never got free time at home, it’s that he never got it during the school year. It was new to him, and there were still 7 months left until the end of the school year. If he was already bored after just a few weeks, Tony didn’t know how he would be able to survive. He fiddled with the ribbon he’d tied around the desk lamp, sighing again.

If only Natasha was here with him…

They could be sparring and reading comics and dancing and just having fun together and --but she wasn’t even at the Stark mansion anymore. It was just so unfair, that he had finally found a friend, a real friend, for her to disappear after just a few months. Who knew what she was doing now? Tony had tried asking aunt Peggy about that Fury guy, and she had said he was trustworthy and all that, but Tony wanted to know what Natasha was doing with him. Was he being a good father? Better than Howard, he hoped. He wondered if Natasha had fought with Fury yet.

Tony was secretly convinced that to become Natasha’s friend, you had to fight her first. It was what Tony had done, was it not? And that had turned out just fine.

Tony would have loved nothing more than calling her and talking to her, but Jarvis hadn’t given Tony any phone number, which was why he had sent a letter to Nat. She hadn’t answered it though, and Tony didn’t know if she never got it or if maybe her answer was lost. It had been almost two weeks since he had sent it, so he was half considering sending another letter, even though he would probably come across as clingy.

Speaking of clingy, maybe he had misjudged their relationship. Natasha had said they were best friends, but maybe she had been lying to appease him. Maybe she was happy to be gone, to finally get rid of the stupid little rich boy. Maybe she was telling Fury how ridiculous Tony was right this moment.

Tony sighed. He knew he was freaking out too much about his stupid letter. He had had a great time with Natasha, and he was almost sure she liked him. Maybe not as much as he liked her, but that seemed to be the norm in Tony’s relationships. He always liked the other person more, anyways.

He turned back to his plans, but couldn’t muster the energy to continue. He still had two or three hours--hours!--before curfew, but he wasn’t interested in the plans anymore.

Tony was resigning himself to lie down on his bed and try to sleep early when he heard a suspicious noise from the direction of his window. It was like something was crawling around on the wall just beneath the window.

 _Maybe it’s a bird or a mouse in the wall or something_ , Tony thought.

He turned his back to the window, trying to block out the sound, but it only grew louder. After a few minutes, Tony huffed frustratingly and got out of the bed to try to find the source of the stupid irritating noise. He stomped over to the window, opened the blinds, and squinted through the glass, trying to see. Of course, the only thing he saw was the top of the maple tree that grew in the courtyard, swaying gently in the wind. But the noise wouldn’t stop, it was getting even more insistent now, and seemed to come from directly below the windowsill.

Tony opened the window, bent down to peer over the windowsill, squinted a bit, and screeched when something grabbed his hand. He tried to back away from the window, but his hand was pinned by-- was that a hand? Was there someone climbing the freaking building? What MORON thought that was a good idea? What were they even doing by his window?

Tony shook himself out of his stupor, grabbed the arm that was attached to the hand and pulled with all his might. Asking questions to the mystery climber could wait, he needed them to get to the safety of his room first. He was on the third floor for god’s sake! Tony yanked on the arm and tipped backward when the person abruptly toppled over the window ledge. They fell in a heap of tangled limbs, sprawling on the floor.

Breathing hard, Tony pushed the climber off his chest and sat up. He opened his mouth, intending to ask them why the hell they were climbing on the building, but no sound came out of his mouth.

He gaped, staring at Natasha as she pushed herself upright. He swallowed, and blurted:

“Natasha? Why--how-- _what the hell are you doing here?_ ”

Not the warmest of welcomes, admittedly, but he was fairly sure she wasn’t supposed to be here. No, scrap that, he was one hundred percent _freaking sure!_

She smirked at him then, and said: “Can’t a girl go see her best friend? Besides, you said you wanted to see me as soon as possible. Is it too soon?”

Oh.

_Oh._

As he stared at her, Tony felt something warm and fuzzy bloom in his chest, spreading in his body until it spilled over in an astonished smile. She had--she had come over just to see him? Her “best friend?' It was almost too good to be true. But she was undeniably there, the fiery hair in a ponytail and the black clothes unmistakable proof it was indeed his best friend that had broken in through his window. Speaking of that, how had she managed to avoid getting caught at the gates?

As if she was reading his mind, Natasha told him how she had gotten here. She had snuck out of Fury’s-- _Nick’s_ \-- apartment after he went to work, and had managed to slip on a train for Boston unnoticed. She had then taken various buses and walked to Phillips Academy, where she had climbed over the wall and started escalating the building.

The trip had taken her almost fourteen hours.

And that was … wow. Tony thought that was the most effort anyone had ever put in seeing him. He kind of wanted to cry a little and hug her for three days at the same time.  
He was an emotional kid, okay?

Anyways. Natasha was here, she had put her life in danger just to get a chance to see him, so he wasn’t going to gape at her like a freaking goldfish any longer. He pulled her into a quick hug, and when she didn’t stab him for touching him, he smiled at her and hugged her again.

“I’m-- wow. I didn’t expect you to come to visit me, or I would have cleaned my room a bit, made some space for you so that you could sleepover or something and wait a minute Fury’s going to be furious!” Tony gasped.

 _What had she done?_ Fury would be panicking when he found out that she left. Maybe he’d be so angry he wouldn’t want her anymore, and what would happen then? Would she get sent back to the USSR? Oh god no. What if he had called the police already? Natasha would get in trouble! But the girl was unperturbed.

“I left him a note to say where I went and that I’d be back tomorrow by nightfall. He’s a nice man, he won’t do anything stupid. Come on, Tony, tell me about boarding school instead.”

So Tony told her, because he had missed her, and honestly they could worry about Fury later.

He told her about the older kids that didn’t even deign to look at him, about the whispers that his father had bought Tony into the school, about how the ball hit him by accident a little too often during baseball practice. He brought up Ty, how bored he was in class, the extra projects he was taking on to keep himself from being bored to death. He told her he missed the manor, Jarvis and his wife, and being with Natasha. In return, she told him about her new life in a rented apartment in downtown New York, how Nick was always busy with one thing or another but still took the time to spend every Saturday evening with Natasha, how he had let her taunt him until he had effortlessly pinned her to a wall and told her she wasn’t good enough to take him on (Tony suspected that Natasha now greatly respected Fury--or Nick as she seemed to call him-- for that), how he had signed her up for homeschooling and taken her to one of his bases of operation.  
Natasha was training to become a spy. It surprised Tony a little bit, and he asked her:“Didn’t you want to leave that kind of stuff behind you? From what you’ve told me, the Red Room wasn’t the friendliest of places.”  
She hadn’t told him much (yet), but he knew enough to get the idea.

“I want to use my skills for something good. I know I have potential, and I want to make a difference. It was meant to be. “ Natasha looked at him, daring him to disagree with her, and he held his tongue. It wasn’t his choice to make.

Tony told Natasha about something he had wanted to build for a long time now: an autonomous robot, or even better, an AI. he expected her to point out that no one had been able to build a functioning AI, but she just said that she was sure he could do it.

The warm feeling in Tony’s chest stayed the whole night they talked, and long after she had climbed back out of the window to travel back to Nick.

* * *

 

Watching Tony cover the pie with crust, Natasha tried to replicate his movements. She wasn’t as good as he was at baking, but Anna had told her it was because Tony had been helping her since he was young. If Natasha was being honest, she didn’t understand why they were putting so much effort into making food. What was the point? As long as it gave you what you needed, who cared how it tasted?

Despite her opinions, she was happy it was Thanksgiving. It meant she got to see Tony without getting into trouble for visiting him, and Nick was letting her stay the whole week. He also was going to attend the dinner.

She had been waiting for this holiday, excited to see Tony again after the last time they’d seen each other. She hadn’t been able to sneak away to the boarding school again, but they had sent a steady stream of letters and packages back and forth.

When Nick and Natasha had arrived at the manor, Tony had run towards the car and crushed her in a hug. She couldn’t have asked for better. They had gone inside directly, and Anna had enrolled them to help in the kitchen.

Secretly Natasha had hoped Tony would want to go over his Captain America collection again, but she was content on helping to make dinner. _I guess it’s a good thing Tony can cook, she thought, he’ll never go hungry._

“You gotta make sure you pinch the edges real good,” Tony told her grabbing at the edges of the circle pan. Anna spun around the kitchen behind them moving to peer over his shoulder to look at the dessert. He hoped that Anna would be pleased with his results, like Natasha he also thought thanksgiving was a lot of work, though he did understand why. Tony just didn't like that Anna almost always had to do most of the work herself.

Looking away from Tony, Anna set her sights on Natasha noting how the girl’s face was scrunched up as she struggled to finish making her pie. While the older woman was happy that Natasha was expressing her emotions more openly, she didn’t like that the girl wasn’t enjoying herself as much as Tony.

Getting an idea Anna asked, “Natasha, do you want to cut these carrots for me?”

That caused the girl to look up, immediately losing the pinched expression.

Not a bad idea at all, Anna smiled. She helped Natasha clean her section of the island, and placed a cutting board in front of the girl. _Now, this I can do,_ Natasha commented to herself, taking the knife from Anna.

Tony smiled as Natasha began to focus on her new task. Anna could always find the perfect job for anybody to do.

* * *

 

Tony’s room hadn’t changed much since they both left. Tony would like to think it was his mothers doing, but it was probably Jarvis’s.

Lying on his bed with his feet hanging off the end, Tony flicked through one of his old Cap issues. He always liked the older ones better than the newer ones, unlike Natasha, who preferred the newer ones he got her at boarding school. The other kids didn’t care for the comics their parents sent them in care packages, thinking they were beneath them. So most times Tony would do their homework in return for some comics and often sent them to Natasha to read.

Sitting above him, Natasha was finishing the last comic Tony had sent her. She was eager to start the ones Tony had brought with him. She wondered if he brought them so that he could give them to her? She hoped so.

Closing the comic she looked to Tony to ask him a question, “Why doesn’t Agent Carter always wear dresses?”

Tony looked up, “In the comics?”

“Yeah,” She replied, “Wearing a dress on a combat mission is a horrible idea.”

Tony shrugged, “I know Aunt Peggy has a lot of dresses, but I don’t think she ever wears them on missions.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen her closet.”

“Why were you in her closet?”

“I was playing dress-up with one of my cousins,” Tony said, setting down the comic in his hand.

Natasha didn’t respond, waiting for Tony to sit up completely. He moved so that they faced each other. “What? You’ve never played dress-up?” He commented.

“No,”

“Seriously?”

Natasha shrugged. Out of the time they had spent together, she still hadn’t figured out how to respond to questions like that, the rhetorical ones. _No, I haven’t ever played dress-up Tony, it’s not something that they let you do in the Red Room._

Watching Tony, Natasha saw the shift in his gaze. It was small, almost unnoticeable, and if Natasha hadn't spent so much time with Tony she would've disregarded it as nothing. But it wasn’t just nothing. That was Tony’s thinking face, his eyes always went a little distant when an idea appeared and what truly gave it away was the slight tilt of his head. She watched him regain focus, and his dark curls shifted on his head.

“Do you wanna play dress up,” He asked, “We can sneak into my mom’s room.”

Tony knew they could’ve easily gone into Anna’s closet to play, but he also knew that the “sneaking” part would appeal more to Natasha than anything else would. It did by the raise of her eyebrows, and the small smirk on her face.

It wasn’t very hard to sneak into his mother's room, neither Howard or Maria was ever in it, and if they were it was only ever to sleep. As they made their way down the hall Natasha was careful not to step on any creaky floorboards. Tony liked this game because he already knew all the creaky boards since he had lived in the Manor his whole life. It made him feel almost like he was dancing, and sometimes he’d imagine he looked like Natasha when she did ballet.

Entering Tony’s parent's bedroom, Natasha noticed how Tony scanned the room with a keen eye. _It’s like he’s never seen this room before._ /p>

If she had voiced her opinion Tony would've argued that he had, he just wasn’t in it often. He never needed to go to his parents' room, and he normally didn’t want to either. The risk of running into Howard had scared him away for the most part, and the other half was that no one was never in it. The Manor was already so lonely, why would he spend time in a room that was always empty?

No, he mostly always trailed after Jarvis when he was home, and if Jarvis was away then Anna.

Opening his mother's walk-in closet, Tony walked in with Natasha close behind. Her day dresses were first in a line of clothes hanging up. Tony noted the ones he had seen before and was surprised by how many of them he hadn’t.

Just like in his room, his mother's shoes were neatly placed on a rack under where her clothes hung. He ignored them in favor of the sparkly dresses in the back, grabbing an emerald green one. When he turned around though to call out to Natasha he was met face to face with Natasha. Except Natasha wasn’t as tall as him last time he checked. In fact, she was _taller_.

High heels.

She was wearing his mom's high heels.

“That’s not fair,” Tony whined taking a step back. Natasha didn’t try to hide her amusement, smiling wide.

 _Ha!_ She was finally as tall as Tony. Natasha voiced that thought, “I’m as tall as you know!”

Scrunching up his nose, Tony pushed past her, glancing at the shoe rack to find his own. With both hands on his hips, he stood up tall after putting on a pair himself, “Now you're not!”

Natasha wanted to tackle him, but she was supposed to be working on being less violent. Instead, Tony watched her step out of her shoes and look for even taller ones. With a roll of his eyes, he too began to dig through his mother's shoes. A red one caught his eye, and he picked through the pile that was forming on the floor to find its match.

With a shoe clutched in her hand, Natasha shoved aside most of the shoes in front of her in irritation. The left shoe she wanted could not be found, and she glanced around their mess to find it. Her eyes caught onto the bright red shoe in Tony’s hand. It was the matching shoe.

Without thinking she tackled Tony, and tried to reach for the shoe. Tony fought back by extending his arm as high as he could, effectively getting the shoe out of Natasha’s reach. It was something Natasha was used to if people had height on her people tended to use it against her. However, it didn’t take long for her to get the shoes out of Tony’s hands and into her, even if he at one point had even curled around the shoe.

And the time it took for her to hand the pair back to Tony was even shorter. The pout on his face was unreal.

“Here. You can have them, you're short you’ll need them anyway.” Natasha said.

Tony squawked, appalled by her words.

“Am not!” He shouted, propping himself up on his elbows.

Natasha blew a loose strand of hair out of her face, and gave him a haughty look, “Sure you are, you’re shorter than every other boy I’ve seen.”

“You don’t know any other boys,” Tony snarked.

“The ones I’ve seen in town.” She clarified, taking a defensive stance. Her hands found their way onto her hips, it reminded Tony of Superman, or Jarvis when he’s exasperated.

“Yeah well,” Tony trailed off, “They could be any age! You wouldn’t know if they were mine.”

“Yeah well,” Natasha mocked, “Anna says you’re small.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Yes, she does.”

“ _No_ , she doesn’t.” Tony repeated, then put on his mocking tone, “When does she say that, huh? When? When she gets mad at you for trailing mud in the house? Huh?”

“No!” Natasha said, unknowingly puffing out her chest, “She tells it to me in Hungarian.”

“I know Hungarian!”

“She tells it to me _when you’re not around._ ”

“Sure she does.”

Anna did do that, not that Tony would ever find out about it. She had told Natasha that he was small for his age and that it worried her a little bit. Which was in part why she always gave him way too much food.

Faking a thought, Natasha said, “You know what give them back,”

“What? No!”

“I walk better in them than you,” she proclaimed.

“You took two steps!”

“More than you.”

“Two steps!” Tony yelled, and he pushed himself up off the floor. “I bet I can walk in them better than you can.”

“I doubt it,” Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Wanna bet!”

“Sure what do I get when I win?”

“When you win?! ,” Tony shrieked.

“Yes, when I win,” Natasha confirmed, “and when I win I get to take home the picture you have of Cap and Bucky.”

“What? No way!” Tony loved that picture, it was the best picture he had of Bucky and Steve together.

“Chicken.”

“Am not!”

“You are,” Natasha said, “What, are you scared that I’m going to win?” Natasha taunted him, knowing that he would never back down from such a challenge. As expected, Tony took the bait:

“Me, scared? Are you kidding me? Fine, you’re on, and when I win, you’ll have to teach me how to throw daggers!”

The bet was on. They found two identical pairs of shoes save for their color: one pair was white and the other black. Tony put on the white pair, reasoning that black shoes were more ninja-like, and he liked the white ones because they had holo sparkles in them.

During the first ten minutes, they both stumbled around the room, trying to take more than two steps without falling. They each had close calls, where they only remained standing because there had been a handy piece of furniture within reach, and looked like newborn foals trying to walk for the first time.

Natasha would’ve been laughing at Tony, but she was busy trying not to roll her ankle. Knowing how painful that was, she tried to avoid it. Meanwhile, Tony didn’t refrain from laughing and had to flop onto the floor to stop himself from getting hurt. Wobbling over to help Tony up, Natasha heard the bedroom door open.

Anna stood in the doorway, struggling to hide her smile. Instead, she put on a stern face and placed both hands on her hips.

“I thought you guys were reading comics,” Anna asked, trying to hide her joy. “Or did you guys get bored?”

They startled badly and swiveled around to face her.

“Uh,” Tony said, unable to come up with an excuse on the spot. “We were reading comics, and we got bored.” He was already hurriedly taking off the high heels, trying to hide them behind his back.

Behind him, Natasha put her head in her hands and shook her head. _We need to work on that_ , Natasha thought, _this friendship will not last if he can’t lie._

“Does this mean you two are done helping in the kitchen?”

“What, no!” Tony cried out. Getting up too fast he tumbled over, and Natasha caught him by his arm.

He planned to follow Anna out, but Natasha stopped him by clearing her throat.

“Uh, your shoes?” She snarked, pointing at the shoes on the floor. With a groan, Tony moved to pick them up off the floor. “What, do you give up already?” Natasha commented.

“No!”

A second of silence passed between them, Anna had already left heading down to the kitchen, leaving the two of them at a standstill. Neither of them wanted to move yet, and Tony was dreading going down the stairs. Natasha can’t outdo me, Tony thought to himself, putting his shoes back on. He made a wide motion that silently said, “Why don't you go first.”

Flicking her hair over her shoulder Natasha walked out of the room with Tony trailing behind her. She didn’t let it show, but she was nervous. However, she wanted to win, and that came first. But the closer she came to the staircase, the more she resolve seemed to crumble.

The stairs were _really_ big.

They both stopped on top of the stairs, looking down nervously to were Anna was smirking at them, raising one expecting an eyebrow. Natasha returned one preparing to walk down them, Tony, on the other hand, sat on the top step and began to scoot down the large staircase. Natasha followed suit, and they helped each other stand up at the bottom. When they entered the kitchen Anna was already fast at work finishing up final touches on some of the dishes that would be served that evening. The mashed potatoes grabbed Tony’s attention right away, and he reached for them.

Smacking his hand away Anna chided, “Work first, eat later.”

Two hours later, the last batch of cookies was out of the oven. The kitchen was full of plates with cookies, cakes, and pies. They had baked sweets for the whole week. Natasha and Tony sat down at the kitchen table and both groaned in relief. Who knew walking in high heels could be so painful? They eyed each other, but neither of them was prepared to forfeit. They were too proud for that.  
Anna watched them and sighed silently to herself. _Those stubborn kids won’t be able to walk tomorrow if they keep this up_ , she mused. She clapped her hands and waited for them to look at her before declaring: “As the self-appointed judge of your bet, I decide that you both have won. Take your shoes off now, or I won’t give you any cookies!”

They scrambled to comply, practically ripping the high heels off their feet. When their feet were free again, they winced. Tony had an enormous blister on his right foot, and a glance towards Natasha’s feet showed that she wasn’t faring much better. She hissed as she poked at her tender soles.

Maybe wearing high heels for so long hadn’t been the best idea.

They accepted a glass of milk with their cookie and grinned at each other while Anna told them to give each other foot rubs to help the ache in their feet.

All in all, it had been the best Thanksgiving in Tony’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LimeOfMagicLimo we thought of you when writing this chapter ;)
> 
>  
> 
> ( Excerpt for our doc)
> 
> Okay_Stark: BRO THEY ARE FIVE THEY CANT WALK DOWN STAIRS IN HEELS  
> Lomku: THEYRE TEN ITS OKAAY !!! THEYRE JUST THAT TALENTED XDDDDDD  
> Okay_Stark:THEY SCOOT DOWN THE STAIRs  
> Lomku: YAAAAAAS THEY TRIP ON THE FIRST STEP AND GO LIKE NOPE AND SLIDE DOWN THE RAMP
> 
> (Feel free to comment! We always keep an eye out, and try to respond to all of them.)
> 
>  
> 
> P.S: Lomku is participating in MTH, if you’re interested in getting a fic from me, don’t hesitate to bid! I’m oluka on tumblr!


	9. The One Where Everyone Realises Tony is Still Just a Kid

**Two years and one month later**

If anyone were to ask Tony what his favorite season was, he wouldn’t be able to answer them. He loved the rain showers in early April, and the fresh smell that came from the flowers blooming in the garden. He loved the hot lazy days that came with the summer, and the fireworks they set off during the fourth of July. He loved the changing of the leaves in autumn, and creating piles of leaves so that he could jump into them. It was hard for him to decide on a favorite, each season brought on new activities for him to partake in, and he would always miss them once they were gone. 

However, if the question was which season did he hate the most, then it’d be the easiest thing in the world to answer. In short, it was winter that Tony hated the most. His mother always told him it was his italian blood made him unable to enjoy the harsh east coast winters, that he was meant to lounging poolside somewhere warm basking in the sun, but of course she only told him these things when she was lucid. 

She told him things other times too though, times when she wasn't completely all there. She’d ask him, “Why do you always fight with your father?” It’d be followed with, “It’d be easier if you just did what he told you to,” and “Is it really that hard? Can’t you just listen for once.” 

Tony didn’t hate his mother, he never did, but he often found himself longing for the short sweet moments when she found clarity in real life rather than the times she had lost herself to mind numbing medication. It made him feel like he was longing for someone who didn’t exist, someone who wasn’t real. Like he wanted to trade her for someone else, and it used to make him feel guilty for even thinking it. 

Now, Tony stood in the dead of winter with snowflakes sticking to his slicked back hair, struggling to stretch his fingers in his coat pocket. The skin on his hands felt tight, and it mirrored the feeling he felt in his chest. His dark clothes looked like the sky had less than an hour before, when the sun had yet to rise, and Tony had yet to start the day. Now though, he stood in a cemetery longing to have any mother at all.    

Hundreds stood behind Tony, but it didn’t feel like he had any support from them. The majority were there to catch a story, whether it was to say they went at all or to report on the event (because Maria and Howard Stark’s funeral was an _event_ ). At least they kept up the pretense of caring, making them a lot less worse than the small portion that had showed up to comfort him in hopes of winning his favor, even though he wouldn’t be a shareholder until he was 21. They had barely offered their condolences before they started about SI, trying to manipulate Tony and get in the good graces of Obie, who was going to take the reins of the company. None of them were there to mourn the death of his parents, and it made Tony grateful that Obie was there to handle the business aspect. He wouldn’t have known what to do or say to all the important men that had come by since his parents… since he had gotten the news about his parents.  

The click of camera shutters filled the air instead of respectful silence, and Tony couldn’t help but think how much of a joke the whole thing was.

“When I die,” Tony said turning to Natasha, who had forced her way through the crowd. She made a face at his words, and Tony could see out of the corner of his eye Obie wanting to scold them, for acting like that. Tony knew Obie would never correct them in public, continuing his train of thought, “I want it to be better than this shit show.” 

When considering what his own funeral would be like, Tony could only imagine the people who truly knew him. It wasn’t going to be some public charade for the people to take part in,  he wanted his to be only for the people who would care that he was gone. Natasha knew this without him having to explain outloud, and for that he was grateful. 

Natasha never knew her parents. She’d never felt the attachment to a person like that either, maybe Nick, but that still felt different. She couldn’t imagine Fury dying, so it was hard for her to sympathize with Tony.  All she could compare it to was the death of one of her instructors in the Red Room, and she didn’t really care for the person much. The only thing she could do was promise that she wouldn’t leave him too.

She sought out one of the hands Tony hid in his pockets, and she tightly squeezed it hoping it to fight off the cold. Her words turned into small white clouds as they left her lips when she said, “Till the stars.” 

“Till the stars,” Tony repeated.

* * *

  
Tony sat in the sitting room waiting for Obie to return from showing the last of the guests out of the Manor. The only guests left that he cared about were Natasha, and Fury. In the next room over Natasha was trying to convince Fury to allow her to stay the night. Tony didn’t have the guts to tell her that he didn’t want her to stay. 

He thought Fury knew somehow, that the man understood that Tony appreciated it, but wanted to be left alone. As if Fury knew that the cold morning air had not worn off yet and the numbness still clung to him. With the pressing matters surrounding his parents deaths being taken care of, all that was left was for Tony to do was to mourn. The only problem was that Tony didn’t know how. Maybe Fury thought he needed to be alone to figure it out, Tony wasn't sure.

He didn’t even know if he missed his father. 

He was angry at him, sure. Tony still couldn’t believe that Howard had been uncaring enough to drive drunk. It was a waste. If he hadn’t been drinking, the accident would never have happened. If Howard had maybe cared a little more Tony’s mom would still be alive. Why didn’t he care enough? Why did his mother get in the car with him when she knew how drunk Howard was? Why didn’t his she stop him? Or was she too out of it to notice?

Was it their pride? Could they not admit that the Great Howard Stark’s weakness was a good bottle of scotch, and that's why they insisted on driving home themselves? Did they not know that everyone already knew?

He hadn’t even told Maria he loved her before they left, Tony sobbed to himself, letting his head fall in his hands. The tears that had been absent during the funeral flowed freely now, with no one to see him fall apart. Why? Tony couldn’t understand. He couldn’t piece it together, and for once he couldn’t pick something apart until he got an answer.  

Two heavy hands rested themselves on his shoulders, and through his tears Tony looked at Obie who crouched in front of him. Obie’s large hands rubbed circles into his shoulders as he tried to comfort him. It didn’t stop the tears from falling, but it grounded Tony enough to listen to what he was saying. 

“Hey, hey, it’s going to be alright, Tony. I’m here for you,” Obie said, “I’ll take care of everything. I already have everything in place, you don't have to worry.” 

Tony wasn’t worried about the future, he was more concerned with what he had lost instead, but the notion made him feel better. At least Obie had his back.

“I’ve already talked to your boarding school,” Obie declared, grabbing the boy’s full attention. “You don't have to go back there. I know how much you hate it there, you hated it there didn’t you,” All Tony could do was nod, and Obie continued, “That’s okay, you’re not going back. I’ve managed to pull some strings to get you into another school. You’ll be challenged there, and maybe it’ll take your mind off of all this mess. Does that sound okay?” 

“I-I guess,” Tony muttered, wiping his eyes, not really sure what his godfather was proposing. Maybe he was right, and Tony needed to get his mind off his parents. Besides, Obie only wanted what was best for him, he always used to defend Tony against Howard, and  listened to what Tony had to say.  

Obie had remembered that Tony hated being at Phillips Academy. 

 _Obie cared_.     

“Okay, Okay.”  Tony said, helplessly nodding in agreement. 

* * *

 

Standing in the foyer of the mansion, Natasha tried to stall as long as she could before she was forced to leave. She could feel Nick’s eyes on her as he waited patiently at the bottom of the steps outside, but it didn’t encourage her to make the goodbye any shorter.

Natasha didn’t want to leave Tony with Obadiah, she didn’t like him. There was something off about the man, and Natasha didn’t trust him. Not even for a second. He reminded her of one of her handlers, who had had an unpleasant glint in his eyes whenever he looked at the girls. Though when she had talked to Nick about it, he had said that she was just overly suspicious. He had reminded her that Obadiah had been there for Tony far longer than Natasha had, and there was nothing they could do anyway. Obadiah was Tony’s guardian now, and there was nothing they could do to change it. 

Trying to appease her nerves, Natasha reminded herself that Jarvis and Ana were still there and would take care of Tony. They had been amongst the few people that had been genuinely distraught by the death of the Starks, and they were surely as worried as Natasha was about Tony. She didn’t know how he would grieve, but she knew that he could do something idiotic in a small amount of time, he had the means and smarts to do so, unfortunately.

It seemed silly to her that someone as smart as Tony needed someone to take care of him, and she said as much to Nick. He argued that even though she was more than capable of taking care of herself, he had been tasked with taking care of her. 

“In the Red Room maybe they would have left him,” Nick said, “But here you don’t have to grow up as fast. It’s a guardian's job to make sure that you don't. That’s why I’m taking care of you, so that you can enjoy what is left of your childhood without any unnecessary worries.”

He had a point, Natasha reluctantly conceded. 

She eyed Tony, who had puffy eyes, trying and failing to hide the fact that he had been crying. He was clinging to Natasha, not saying anything. She had told him that if he wanted to, she would run away back to the manor if he needed her,  but he had shaken his head. Natasha wanted nothing more than to comfort her best friend, but if he wanted to be left alone, she could respect that. After all, wasn’t it what she had done during early days? 

With one final final hug, Natasha pulled away and left. She didn’t look back, but it was a long time before she could think of anything other than Tony’s slouched form and tired eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time it was Okay_Stark's time to carry me XD  
> We take turns in having no inspiration
> 
>  
> 
> please comment and tell us what you think, we love to hear about your opinions ! <3


	10. The One Where Tony Finds a New Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had troubles posting it, but here is the new chapter!

“I’m telling you man,” Rhodey said, “Creating an AI is just not possible. That’s something that won’t happen for at least 50 years. Alleged genius or not, robotics is just not advanced enough for that yet.” 

Tony only spared his new roommate a quick glance before turning down into a new corridor, heading to their shared dorm. It had only been two weeks since he started attending MIT, and since he had met Rhodey, but Tony had never made a faster friend. Well besides Natasha, but she was also his only friend and more like a sibling than anything. 

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Tony snarked back, pulling on the strings of his backpack. A smile smile found its way to his lips. “Won’t we?”

Next to him Rhodey shook his head with a fond roll of his eyes, and pulled out the keys to open the door to their room. 

Their dorm room wasn’t anything special, at least not yet, Tony had plans to cover the walls with posters and drafts of his projects. At the Manor he had never been allowed to do such things because Howard had said it was improper, and at Phillips Academy it had been against the rules. He hadn’t asked Rhodey yet if he minded, but Tony assume he’d be okay with it. 

The only fuss he had ever made was when Tony began to call him “Rhodey” after the second day, but he had quickly gotten over it. To Tony, Rhodey was like a breath of fresh air compared to the sad eyes that followed him around the Manor ever since his parents died, and from investors that would come and Obie at the Manor. It was nice to be able to have a conversation that wasn’t about Stark Industries or about his future. Rhodey was like Natasha in that sense. He was another form of escape for Tony, and made it easy for him to forget his other responsibilities. Tony was happy to be dorming with him.

Entering their dorm room Tony was welcomed with a surprise causing him to squawk out, “Natasha? What are you doing here?” 

Lounging on Tony’s twin bed, Natasha sat with her back to the wall and a book in her lap. 

“W-what? How did she get in?” Rhodey said, “Wait, no wrong question. Who is she?” 

Natasha only raised one unimpressed eyebrow. 

Smiling, Tony introduced them to each other, “Rhodey this is Natasha,” He waved a hand to her, and then one to Rhodey. “Natasha this is Rhodey.” 

“That explains absolutely nothing,” Rhodey stated, moving to sit on his bed which was against the opposite wall to Tony’s. 

Tony shrugged at his response, “She’s my best friend.” 

“Okay, but how’d she-,” Rhodey started to ask Tony before directing the question to Natasha, “How did you get into our room?” 

“The front door.” 

Rhodey sent Natasha an exasperated look which was soon directed towards Tony  instead. With a helpless shrug, Tony snarked, “Well she answered your question didn’t she?” 

“Besides,” Tony said, picking up where he left off. “Didn’t you wanna head to the lab? Do you really wanna talk about this over spending time in the lab. _The Lab_ , Rhodey.” 

The older boy looked like he wanted to argue, but what Tony had learned in the past two weeks was that even though Rhodey pretended that he didn’t approve of Tony’s shenanigans, nine times out of ten he was willing to participate in them. 

Natasha watched Tony send Rhodey a challenging glare, and noticed how Rhodey let out a defeated sigh. It was a strange interaction in her eyes. She had yet to form an opinion on Tony’s roommate, so she tried to study everything. Why did he give up so easily? Why didn’t he fight back or care that a random girl was in his room?

“Fine,” Rhodey said giving up, “Grab you stuff and let's go.” 

Tony grinned scrambling to empty his bag and filling it up with the things he would need for the project he was working on. Looking up as he was shoving in the last item he told Natasha, “Come on, I can show you this cool diner afterwards.” 

A little bit wary, Natasha kept her eyes on Rhodey, surprised that he would be joining them. She heard Rhodey mutter, “Fucking nerd” at Tony. Instead of being offended Tony barked out a laugh and tossed on his bookbag before walking out of the room. Suspicious, Natasha trailed after them.

 

* * *

 

While Tony was too engrossed in his schematics to notice, Natasha pinned Rhodey with a look and pointedly cleared her throat, tilting her chin to the door. He raised an eyebrow at her, but had the grace to put down his book on aerodynamics and follow her to the empty hallway. When they were well out of earshot-- not that Tony would hear them if they were talking right above him, he was completely lost in his own head when he was struck with an engineering binge-- Natasha turned around to face Rhodey and crossed her arms, leveling a glare at the older teen. He scoffed, looking down at her. “You’ve got a problem, Natasha?”

She didn’t rise to the bait.

“Why are you his friend?”

It took him aback. He had clearly not anticipated this, and he spluttered, crossing his arms in turn.

“Why am I… What kind of question is that? Why are _you_ his friend, huh?”

“That’s none of your business. Now. Tell. Me. Is it because you want his money? His riches? Are you trying to worm yourself into Stark Industries, make nice with the heir to get something in return later? I won’t let you use Tony like that. If you want something from him, you better lose any hope of getting it.” Her words were filled with venom, but she didn’t care. If he had dishonest intentions, she needed to cut him out of Tony’s life, literally if need be. She had brought her knives with her.

Tony didn’t need yet another heartbreak, he had had enough to last a lifetime already. And this Rhodes boy was a wild card. He seemed nice enough, but he was clearly from a family that had less money than Tony, and Natasha knew how the prospect of money could be alluring to a student. Not that she had ever experienced it, but the Red Room had taught her it was easy to become desperate if you needed something just out of your reach. 

He looked offended at what she had implied, though, so it was a good start.

“What? Of course I’m not--I wouldn’t do that, who do you think I am? I like him, ok? He’s nice, and smart. Most of the other students are too snobbish, arrogant, or racist, to talk to me. Plus, he’s so _young_ , and it makes me think of my sister back at home. I just…” He scratched his neck sheepishly. Natasha understood him, she too felt the strong urge to protect and defend Tony at all costs whenever she saw him.  His big doe eyes and unruly curls were just so… cute. She would never say that out loud, of course, but sometimes she looked at Tony and saw a kitten. He was too adorable for his own good, was what he was. 

She didn’t like that Tony was in college already, with students at least four years older than he was, and the alluring dangers of drugs and alcohol. 

 _Wow, I sound like a worried grandmother. You’re only twelve, Natalia,_ she reminded herself.

Twelve or not, she had to take care of Tony. 

Rhodey seemed to have taught along the same path as her, because he scowled down at her. “How old are you, anyways? Ten? Eleven? What could you possibly hope to do if I was lying to you?”

She smirked, baring her teeth in silent threat. Rhodey was unimpressed. It irked her a little bit, to be honest, not to be taken seriously. She would show him, just how dangerous she really was. Just because he was training to become part of the air force didn’t mean she couldn’t take him. “You’ll see. You seem alright though. However, if you ever hurt Tony, I will hunt you down and make you regret it.” she kept eye-contact with him, willing him to register it as a legit threat and not meaningless words.

It didn’t really work. He had both eyebrows raised and stared down at her in silence. “Sure, whatever.”

She bristled, wanting to put him down a notch or two, but Tony decided to walk out the lab precisely at that moment, looking around in confusion. “Ah, there you are! I wanted to ask you two to help me carry a heavy part of machinery but then when I looked up you were gone and… Well you’re here. What are we talking about?”

“Nothing,” Natasha and Rhodey said in unison. Tony looked at them suspiciously, but didn’t comment, beckoning them to get back in the lab.

They helped him move a heavy motor from one table to another, and then he went back to his mutterings. Rhodey looked over his shoulder for a bit, then just watched Tony work with a slight smile on his face. He scowled when he realised Natasha was observing him, and went back to his book.

 

 _He isn’t too bad_ , Natasha decided.

 

* * *

 

The neon lights of the diner’s sign could be seen in the reflection of the window their booth was against, and Tony pressed himself against the cold window. Natasha had insisted on sitting on the outer part of the booth, and Rhodey sat across from them. Idly, Tony played with the salt shaker while they waited for their food to arrive.

“So,” Rhodey said breaking the silence, “What school do you go to?” 

Natasha’s and Tony’s eyes met for a split second before they both directed them away. 

“Uh, she goes to a private school in Upstate New York,” Tony answered for her. He didn’t like lying to Rhodey, but they couldn’t exactly tell Rhodey that Natasha was training to be an agent at SHIELD. Fury had told them they weren’t to speak of it, and Tony only knew as much as he did because he had been informed of the organisation after his parents’ death.

“It’s a boarding school,” Natasha chimed in. _Tony didn’t have to answer for her._

“And your parents’ pulled you out of school just so you could visit Tony?” Rhodey asked. 

Natasha shrugged, “My _guardian_ ,” she corrected. “Said I could.” 

“Okay,” Tony said dragging the word out awkwardly. “Can we not talk about school? We could be talking about so many other things right now. Like...the new Captain America comic!” 

Natasha watched a confused expression form on Rhodey's faces, and she assumed that he didn’t understand why Tony didn’t want to talk about her school. But as long as they didn’t say were Natasha went, Rhodey couldn’t prove anything, so whatever Rhodey was thinking didn’t concern her too much. Besides, she already threatened him. He’d be an idiot to get on her bad side. 

“Yes, Finally!” Tony cheered as the waitress brought out their food, and the topic of school was soon forgotten. 

  
  


* * *

 

Rhodey woke himself up in the middle of the night when he sneezed too hard. He stared up at the ceiling, disoriented and more than ready to fall asleep again, when he heard whispers coming from Tony’s side of the room.

“...Is he awake?”

“I don’t think so, but let’s wait a little bit to be sure.”

Well, he was definitely not supposed to be hearing whatever they were talking about, but Natasha was still a mystery to him and he wanted to know more about the girl. Who was she really? They hadn’t even answered his question about which school she went to. Rhodey’s ma always said that eavesdropping was not something a proper boy should do, but he was an adult now, and anyways, they hadn’t asked him if he was awake, so they should just blame themselves if they assumed he was sleeping. By the way, this was his room too, so he had the right to hear what they were saying. Right?

A few minutes later, he heard some shuffling, and Tony whispered a little bit louder: “Rhodey?”

Rhodey didn’t move, trying to breathe deeply and slowly. 

“He’s asleep. So, Nat, how is your training?”

He heard a small sigh which he assumed belong to Natasha. He heard her speak up next, “It’s okay I guess. It’s not as fun as training with you.” She admitted. 

 _Training_ , Rhodey wondered. _What training? And for what?_ It surprised him even more that Tony had also taken part in it, but it was soon clarified by the boy.

“I didn’t really train with you,” Tony replied, “I only really helped you practice.” 

“Still,” Natasha said, Rhodey heard the ruffle of blankets. “You didn’t get in my way all the time like…”

“Like who?”

“Well, there’s this boy named Barton,” Natasha told him, “He’s older than me but not by much, probably your age. He always gets in my way.” 

“He’s just jealous,” Tony proclaimed, “Knows you can beat him.” 

“You think?” 

“Of course!” Tony answered as strongly as he could without raising his voice. “I bet you’re kicking his ass constantly.” 

Rhodey heard a hum of confurmation , and Natasha followed it by saying, “I wish you were with me.” 

“Shield has no place for me.” Tony declared.

 

Shield? What on earth were they talking about? Who was Natasha, and how did Tony know her? Should he chalk it up to rich kids being rich, or was there something more? He liked Tony, and he didn’t want to see him involved in something dangerous. Rhodey was unable to ask questions without giving away that he was awake however, so he laid still and waited for the conversation to continue. But Tony followed his declaration with, “Now come on it’s late, and I have an eight a.m. class tomorrow.” 

Natasha sighed again, but stayed silent. More ruffle of blankets and then that was it. The conversation was over, and Rhodey had none of the answers he wanted. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we finally start with the MCU, right up with IM 1 !! We're super excited!!
> 
> Please comment, we always love to see what you think!!! <333333


	11. The One Where The Man Who Has Everything and Nothing Finds Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo, we are back after more than a month of studying and personnal issues getting in the way of writing! Sorry for the wait, here is a slightly longer than average chapter to make up for it :P

**2010, 19 years later**

Tony was living his best life. Having fun in a casino, spending outrageous amounts of money, drinking the best cocktails, flirting with the busty women that were smiling at him with teeth that were bleached white. There was maybe something he was forgetting, but it couldn’t be that important if nobody had called him yet. Whatever Obie or Rhodey could handle it. Tony was much too busy trying to figure out which of the giggling beauties he was going to invite home for some nightly fun. Maybe the one with the green eyes?

His thoughts came to an abrupt stop when he glanced around the room. Was that… Had a redhead just walked past, or was he dreaming? And wasn’t her gait familiar? His game forgotten, he gave his drink to the nearest woman and excused himself. He walked towards the spot where he had caught a glimpse of the woman, but of course, there was no one in sight in the empty hallway.

He leaned back against the wall, sighing and closing his eyes briefly.

_What the fuck were you expecting, huh, Tony? Why would she even be here? You haven’t been on speaking terms for more than ten years, for fuck’s sake, he thought._

His mind had just played a trick on him. Maybe he had had enough alcohol for the evening if he started hallucinating old friends-turned-acquaintances-turned-strangers. It wasn’t as if he wanted to see her, he tried to convince himself. No, they were different in every way imaginable, and what friendship they had had when they hadn’t even hit puberty yet was just born out of necessity. Sure, they had kept in contact during Tony’s years at MIT and Natasha’s increasingly demanding training at SHIELD, but the years after that had been the problem. Namely, when Tony took over the company and Natasha decided to become a full-time spy. 

* * *

_One week after Tony got the news that since he was 21, he was now in charge of Stark Industries, he organized a party to say goodbye to his life as a student. Rhodey was there, and with Natasha, they were the only two that Tony cared about. The others were nice, sure, but half of them he didn’t even know the name of and the other half were just there because his parties were the best in New York. Not that that was bad, or anything. The more the merrier, and all that shit. All in all, he and a few hundred others had a great time, and Tony even got laid with some guy from a medical school. What was his name again? Steve? Esteban? Whatever he was a good lay._

_The morning after, though, wasn’t such a success. Tony had been nursing a raging hangover when Natasha set down her cup of tea on the table they were sitting at and told him she was going to accept SHIELD’s offer of a full-time job._

_To say Tony didn’t react positively would be an understatement._

_Ever since Natasha had started her training, Tony had been worried that she would become a full-fledged spy and leave on increasingly dangerous missions, until she one day wouldn’t be able to come back from them. It seemed like his fear had finally become a reality. It wasn’t the first time that they had discussed SHIELD, and he had already told her several times that he didn’t want her to get hurt. He knew she understood where he was coming from because she had told him once that she sometimes felt the urge to protect him from the world. But in his later years at MIT, he had done some wild shit, stuff that Nat didn’t always approve of. She didn’t like that he was being so reckless, so uncaring of his own life. She didn’t like that he drank too much, that he took drugs, that he took unnecessary risks. In his turn, he didn’t like that she was putting so much of herself into SHIELD, that she did not socialize enough outside of her workplace, that she still deferred to Fury as much as she did. He knew she saw Fury as a father figure, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Fury was manipulating her into working for SHIELD. He didn’t understand why she would pursue a life of spying and killing when she came from the Red Room. Hadn’t it been warning enough? She almost only had bad memories about that place, why did she want to continue on that path?_

_They had had several discussions about it already, and also about the fact that Natasha didn’t trust Obie, but Tony couldn’t see what was wrong with Obie, and he couldn’t just stop seeing Obie either. Obie was his godfather, the closest thing he had ever had to a father, and was a godsend in helping Tony deal with the complicated and boring SI stuff._

_So, yeah, there had been tension between them before, but this time, everything was amplified, acerbated by the hangover and the fact that she had taken her decision already. She told him that she wanted to do it, that it felt right, that she wanted to do something good with the training that she started in the Red Room. But Tony was afraid for her, and showed it in the only way he knew how: he lashed out. He told her she only wanted to be a spy because she hadn’t known any other life. She looked at him then, with a stony face that betrayed nothing, and stated that she had the skills to do it and that she would be one of SHIELD’s best spies. He told her she was so good at it because she didn’t have any emotions._

_And that was when the fight began._

_Neither of them would back down, so instead, they screamed viciously and hit each other where it hurt. She sneered that he was wasting his life, being the drunken whore that he was wasting his talent and letting it rot in his decadent lifestyle. He mocked her, telling her she was jealous that he had money and connections while she was married to her job, her adoptive father being literally her boss. She replied that he was just a pathetic weakling, not even able to properly defend himself in a fight, that his emotions were all over the place, that he cried like a baby. He retorted that at least he knew how to function in society, not like Natasha, who needed to treat every social interaction that she had like a mission to be able to even pass as a normal human being._

_It went on and on, and in the end, Natasha stalked up to where Tony had been pacing in agitation, put a knife to his throat, and hissed in his ear that she could take her own fucking decisions and that she wouldn’t let a bratty and egotistical man-child lecture her._

_She stormed out after that, barely sparing a glance at a fuming Tony._

_They never talked again._

* * *

Yeah. Well. The point was that there was absolutely no reason whatsoever that Natasha would be at the same casino as Tony. Hell, she was probably not even in America. Last he’d heard (read: hacked into SHIELD’s personnel files), she’d been assigned on a mission in Budapest with that Barton guy she seemed to like. Not that he was checking up on her or anything.

God, he needed a drink. 

And he needed to stop fucking thinking about her. Just because she was one of the only upsides of his childhood didn’t mean that he should get all maudlin and cry like a baby about her.

_Grow up, Stark. People change. You were friends, you’re not anymore, deal with it._

Fuck, these trips down memory lane were not what he needed. He shook his head, put on his best billionaire smile, and went back to the gold-diggers and rich idiots in the main room.

* * *

 _How much money will this get me_ , Tony thought as he spread his arms and waited for the shockwave to engulf him. He could see the hungry looks in the generals’ eyes, how they were already calculating how much faster they would be able to obliterate their enemy, and he smiled his shark-smile, every inch the Merchant of Death.

He was going to get so much money from this. Maybe he could call Stephen when he came back. He hadn't seen him since their last rendezvous after the charity ball for the hospital. For a brief moment, the image of Stephen’s bright blue eyes entered his mind, followed by a knowing smirk, and large hands that he could still imagine splayed against his skin and-- Yeah, that sounded good. Sounded great, amazing even, celebrating selling the Jericho by having a fun time between the sheets. 

He was good at that. He was the _best_ at it. Making weapons and having fun when he wasn’t. It was in his blood to design things that didn’t just kill, but caused as much destruction as possible. That was who he was: playboy, billionaire, weapons designer, and, oh yeah, genius.

He had the world at his feet, and that was exactly how he liked it.

* * *

“Hey Tony,” Rhodey had called out. That’s what he remembered. Remembered telling Rhodey his ride was the “fun-vee.” 

Remembered saying to Rhodey, “See you back at base.” 

Right now, it seemed like that promise was going to be a little difficult to fulfill, what with the convoy getting blown up all around him.

Fuck, _where was Rhodey_ ? _Oh god, please don’t be dead please don’t be dead please don’t--_

The ground shook next to him as something crashed into it. A bomb. _His bomb._

Fuck. _I’m fucked_ , he realized, _so fucked._ Tony wasn’t even able to scramble away before it exploded, making his vision white out.

He came back to his senses with an awful sensation in his chest. It felt as if someone was shoving a thousands needles in his heart, and it hurt so fucking much and he was losing consciousness again and he was slipping away--

* * *

Tony woke up with a magnet in his chest, wired to a fucking _car battery_ , and spent the next ten minutes hyperventilating because it was wrong, he couldn’t breathe properly, his chest hurt, oh god there was something inside him and he could feel it shifting and pressing against his bones and he _couldn’t_ \-- and there was a man there, talking calmly to him, talking him through the panic attack, explaining to him that he saved his life but that he was going to die in less than a week anyways. Tony almost asked him why he had even bothered then, but he understood that the man had probably been forced to by whoever had captured Tony.

Fucking hell. 

Killed by his own fucking weapon.

Tony would laugh at the irony if he wasn’t so busy trying to hold back the tears. 

God, it hurt so fucking much.

The terrorists came back then and asked him to build the Jericho, and Tony knew that he couldn’t give it to them. No fucking way. Instead, he reminded himself that Stark men were made of iron. He was strong, he could be strong. His mind was made, and the words fell out of his mouth without a second thought. “I refuse.”

Of course, they didn’t take kindly to that and dragged him off to do some very unpleasant bonding exercises with a tub of freezing water.

He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t breathe, choking on the water, chest constricting, sparks flying when the wires got too close to the water, throat aching, head throbbing from the yanking on his hair. He tried to think, tried to think of something else, anything else, to stop feeling the water creeping into his lungs and suffocating him--

* * *

_“When I was six, they staged a kidnapping. They wanted to see how we would react. Would we fight? Escape? How would we react to torture or the threat of torture? The threat of something worse?”_

_“Nat… What are you-- Why-- “_

_“I need to say it. Please, just...just listen, okay? I need to get it out of my head.”_

_Tony shifted but didn’t say anything. He knew that she only got like this when she had a particularly bad nightmare. It had been years since that had happened, but then again, they didn’t see each other very often lately. He wondered if she had more nightmares now that she had officially started her training at SHIELD._

_“They killed the girls that were too weak, the ones that cried or got paralyzed in fear. They hurt the rest of us. Nothing lasting, but still torture. I had bruises for weeks after. They told us, when it was over, that kidnappings and torture would be common for us in our line of work. Of course, we would more often be the perpetrators than the victims, but it was good to be prepared. ‘Always comply, but don’t appear too submissive. Stay alert. Try to avoid torture. Lie to get them to stop. Find their weaknesses and exploit them. Escape or kill yourself if an escape is not possible. Never give away sensitive information. Never. Information is knowledge. Die before you give in.’ They always told us that, but they never told us how to resist. Were we supposed to just_ know _what to do?”_

_“I don’t know, Nat. I don’t know.”_

* * *

He tried to remember, anything he had learned about kidnappings and what Natasha had told him about resisting torture, but he couldn’t recall a single thing. _What would Natasha do?_ He asked himself as they put him underwater once again. _She wouldn’t have let herself get ambushed and caught in the first place,_ a little voice unhelpfully supplied. 

 

* * *

When he saw that they had crates full of his weapons, he knew something was very, truly, wrong. Why were his weapons in the hands of terrorists? Who had sold them? Was someone dealing under the table? Was someone at SI selling weapons to terrorists? _Had they sold him out?_

He needed to get out of this place, needed to right the terrible wrongs that were happening right now. God, how had he not seen that? How had someone sold weapons under his nose? How could he have been so _blind_?

He accepted to build the Jericho and started planning to build his escape.

* * *

 

When Yinsen asked Tony if he had a family, his first thoughts went to Jarvis. Kind, loyal Jarvis, who had died too soon. 

Then he thought about Natasha, who had almost been a sister to him, who had been by his side until she could no longer stand it. Natasha, who wouldn’t even speak to him anymore.

His mind drifted to Stephen, then. Fuck. They’d never even talked about going steady. He could admit he liked the guy. Liked the smug smile the man often sported, liked how was more than just another pretty face. There wasn’t any love in their relationship, though. No, there was fondness, and some grudging respect for each other's genius, but nothing more. Hell, they hadn’t even seen each other for months, what with the Jericho design needing to get finished and Stephen’s increasing workload. Fuck, he wished hadn’t been so busy creating the Jericho. No, he wished he’d never created it all. 

What had he been _thinking_?  

He thought about Pepper and Rhodey next. They were maybe his closest friends, but he knew that they would only put up with a certain amount of his exhausting personality before they decided he wasn’t worth it. God knows he pissed off both of them almost daily. Honestly, he didn’t know why they were still there. Who knew, maybe they had moved on already. He desperately hoped not, that at least Rhodey was still looking for him, but he knew just as well as Yinsen that he wouldn’t be found in time. 

He told Yinsen he didn’t have anyone.

“So you’re a man that has everything and nothing?”

Yeah, he was.

 

* * *

Yinsen died --because of course, he did, of course, Tony couldn’t even save the one man to whom he owed his life-- and told Tony that he shouldn’t waste it, shouldn’t waste his life. Tony blinked away the moisture in his eyes and let himself be taken over by the roaring rage that had been waiting in the hole left by his heart. He leveled the base, killing every single terrorist in his way, and could only think about Yinsen’s eyes glazing over as he drew his last breath.

 

* * *

He’d been walking for what felt like an eternity, and he almost didn’t notice when the silence of the desert suddenly broke. _What the fuck is that noise?_ Tony wondered. Was that… It couldn’t be.

His eyes strained as he tried to look up at the bright blue sky. It was so different from the dark cave he had become accustomed to. _There’s nothing in the sky_ , Tony thought. _Auditory hallucinations. I’m losing it._

 _Heh. Like I ever fucking had it in the first pl—_ Tony’s eyes finally focused on the sky above him, and he choked on the sand in his throat. _A helicopter. A single Cargo Hook. It’s fake, it’s not real. Does it matter? No,_ Tony decided. He couldn’t stop himself from calling out. “Hey!” 

He desperately needed the helicopter to be real, because he couldn’t die yet. There was too much he still had to do. He had to make up for what he’d done, needed to stop his weapons from getting into the wrong hands. Needed to see Natasha again. He wished they hadn’t spent so long being angry with each other. Wished he didn’t have his father's pride.

Sand sprayed on his face, breaking his thoughts. The helicopter flew over him kicking up the sand, and he prayed it wasn’t just the wind. Tony _hoped_ he wasn’t so dehydrated that he was imagining the scene, and he prayed when a soldier began to approach him. 

_Rhodey._

_Beautiful lovely Rhodey._

“How was the fun-vee” Rhodey said breathlessly. He approached Tony and pulled him against his chest. Tony expected it to be a dune that hit his chest; he expected the illusion to fall away, and be greeted with another face full of sand. A relieved whine left his throat before he could stop it, though he couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. 

“Next time,” Rhodey squeezed him, “Next time you ride with me. Okay.” 

The reactor dug into Rhodey’s uniform, but Tony ignored it. He only wished Rhodey had too.

“Oh, Tones.” He choked out, lightening his tight grip on Tony. The soldiers behind them watched as they clung to one another, none of them were too keen to separate them. Not after the countless times, they’d seen Rhodey almost lose himself in finding the man in front of them. They certainly didn’t understand it, but they sure as hell weren't about to comment on it. 

And when it did come time to retreat into the helicopter, Tony had to stop Rhodey from picking him up. “Don’t even try it. I’m not some bride being brought home on her wedding day.” 

“No, you’re just a prisoner of war,” Rhodey grunted back, he was failing to get ahold of Tony’s limbs without grazing an injury. “Now would you stop being so difficult, I have a surprise for you on the ship.”

It was hard to do, but Rhodey and Tony managed to get to the entrance and slowly up the ramp. Tony sighed in relief when he could no longer feel the hot skin against his back, and without his permission, he felt his knees give out from under him. Rhodey followed him down, unable to stop himself from being pulled down by the weight of Tony. 

A pair of arms caught Tony at his waist softening the fall. Red hair entered and left his eyesight causing Tony’s breath to hitch. 

“Natasha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After quite some discussion, we're happy to announce the ships that will be present in this fic:
> 
> The two main pairings will be Pepperony and Romanogers!  
> There will be some lowkey Ironstrange too, as you saw in this chapter, but Pepperony is endgame. 
> 
> have an extract of our convo:
> 
> Okay-stark: Tony isn't "settling" with Pepper. I think that Pepper would be the type of love for him that's more realistic. With Stephen he never really has that domestic life or a realtionship relationship. He loves Stephen, but it's always a "what if" like some far away thing.
> 
> Lomku: exACTLY
> 
> Okay-stark: Different love for different ppl
> 
>  
> 
> and a tease for romanogers:
> 
> Okay-stark: *sends a gif of natasha running to hide under cap's shield* *raises eyebrows*  
> Lomku: oooh yes nat running under the shield  
> NIIIICE
> 
>  
> 
> as always, please leave a comment to tell us what you think!  
> LOVE YOU <3333


	12. The One Where Tony holds a Press Conference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... so it's been a month

He almost turned to Rhodey to see if he had started hallucinating for real, but she looked at him with such an intensity that he couldn’t look away.

She… had changed. She was older, of course, with different hair. It was much longer than he had ever seen on her, curling elegantly over her shoulders. She had blood-red lipstick on, like the kind Aunt Peggy used to wear, and was in a military outfit that looked like Rhodeys. Still, her hair was loose, and at odds with the rough interior of the chopper.

There was something else about her, though. Maybe it was the fact that she had managed to avoid being seen by Tony when he came in, or the involuntary shiver that had run up his spine when they had locked eyes. It didn’t take him long to narrow it down to what it was.

She was dangerous. No, she had been dangerous since the day they met all those years ago, but now she was _lethal_. Deadly, with a quiet but insistent power thrumming in her veins. She hid it well, but he had known her for years, and he could detect some of her tells. Her eyes, for instance, had a new hardness to them. They  told him what he feared he would see: SHIELD had perfected her training, finishing the job that the Red Room had started all those years ago. They had turned her into the perfect spy, a woman capable of shutting out her emotions all too well. Her face was a blank mask, ready to be turned into whatever she wanted it to be. 

He wondered if there was anything left from the woman he’d once known.

“Tony.” It was said evenly, none of the inflection her voice once had when she called his name. As if this wasn’t the first time in over a decade that she was speaking to him. As if he hadn’t just been rescued from three months of kidnapping. As if he was a vaguely known acquaintance she had met in the street.

“Why are you… Why are you here?”  It didn’t make any sense. 

“You are too valuable to be left to terrorists, so we went to rescue you.” 

Oh. 

So that was how she wanted to play it, then. Speaking as a spokesperson to SHIELD. Implying that she was only here because his mind was too dangerous to be left in the hands of organised criminals. Making it clear that there was nothing in this for her, personally. Cutting off any conversations they might have had before it even began.

He schooled his face, letting it fall back into his practiced unbothered smirk he often wore at board meetings. He broke eye-contact, accepting her hand to stand up again and sitting down on the medical cot as the chopper lifted.

“Well, you’re not wrong. I like to think I’m very valuable, so thanks for the rescue.” 

He felt Rhodey tense next to him, and knew his friend had realized that there wasn’t going to be any tear-felt reunion between Tony and Natasha. If he thought everything would be magically fine between them, he was sorely mistaken. Tony didn’t even know what he was feeling. Did he want to cling to her and never let her leave again, or did he want to put his hands over his ears, close his eyes and block her out entirely? 

The second option was becoming more and more appealing, actually. To be honest, Tony didn’t think it really had anything to do with Natasha, but more with his general state of mind at the moment.

There were too many people around him, medics trying to look him over, Rhodey still hovering at his side, Natasha at a polite distance but her eyes on him like a physical weight. He had to… He had to get away from them. He muttered: “Get away from me. Don’t touch me. Don’t _touch_ me!” 

The medic that had been pulling on his shirt let go, eyes going went wide. Tony couldn’t care less about any hurt feelings. He needed them to stop touching him, let him breathe, couldn’t they just let him breathe for a moment, couldn’t they see that he needed some time for himself, he just got out of the worst three months of his _life,_ _was it too much to ask for some privacy?_

The absolute silence that met him told him that that last part may have been said out loud. Breathing harshly, he turned his head to look at them, all frozen with surprised, or worse, pitying looks on their faces, save for Natasha, who had a cold, assessing gaze, like she was trying to figure out why he was behaving like that, what exactly was broken with him, what part of himself he had left behind in the caves--He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe? There wasn’t enough air, he needed more air, he needed to get out--

The world tilted sideways and darkened.

* * *

 

Natasha stood in the back, watching the two medics frantically try to wake Tony up. Rhodes was clenching and unclenching his right hand, jaw tense and whole body rigid. It was understandable, as he had just witnessed his best friend have a full-blown panic attack. It wasn’t surprising, really. A lot of kidnapping victims developed panic or anxiety attacks, PSTD flashbacks and the like. From the looks of it, Tony was one of them. 

 _Stop dissecting his emotions as if he’s just another mark_ , a vicious voice hissed inside her head. _Don’t you feel anything when you see the state he’s in? He’s clearly unwell! Help him, for god’s sake!_

She shut it down. Getting emotional wouldn’t help her, much less Tony. 

He looked terrible. There were visible scorch marks on his shoulders and arms, and his head was bloodied. One of his arms was hanging a bit too loose, his clothes were tattered, his skin bruised. And if that wasn’t bad enough, there was _something_ under his shirt, in the middle of his chest. She couldn’t see if it was on or in his chest, but it was emitting a soft blue glow. 

Her mind was going haywire with explanations and possible scenarios that would have led to this thing, each worse than the one before. She wanted to throw the medics aside and rip open his shirt, to understand what had happened to Tony. 

She didn’t move. 

Tony woke up after a few minutes, sitting up abruptly and almost headbutting the medic working on the burns on his left arm. He stared at the wall, then visibly took control of his appearance, slouching a bit where he had been extremely tense, hooding his eyes to mask the over-alertness, grabbing the edge of the cot to hide the diminishing tremors of his hand. 

Of course, Natasha saw all that, but she was the only one to notice he had put up his walls. Even Rhodes was too relieved to see him awake to realise Tony had shut out the world. 

Natasha stayed in the background, never leaving Tony out of her vision. During the hours it took for them to arrive at the base, she saw him refuse to tell anything about his stay, physically block access to his chest, only letting the medics work on the burns and cuts on his arms, legs and head. His chest was off-limits, and any inquiring remark about the light was shut down viciously. That light-emitting device was an extremely sore point, which only made Natasha more nervous about it. What _was_ it? The only thing Tony had said was that it wasn’t a danger to his life and that he didn’t need any assistance with it.

She knew there was something more to it. She’d never seen him so protective of anything before, so she guessed whatever it was must have been acquired in a traumatic way. But she knew that if he didn’t want to tell the medics, there was a very, very low probability that he would let her know anything.

 _And whose fault is that?_ That same voice sneered again. _Who was it that hid herself behind a mask of detached professionalism instead of telling Tony how much you have missed him, how happy you are that he’s alive? You burned any bridge that could have mended your friendship before it was even built!_

It was harder to shut the voice down this time. She didn’t know why she had done that. 

She could still clearly see the exact moment she had spotted Tony walking in the desert, after Rhodes had shouted “There!”. Her heart had skipped a beat, and she hadn’t been able to suppress her relieved smile.  For a moment, she had felt just like all those years ago, when she would see Tony running towards her, holding his latest invention in his hands, eager to show her what he had created. The burst of warmth and lightness in her chest had been so overwhelming that she had skipped a breath.

But when their eyes had locked, after his breathless uttering of her name, she had been struck by how alien his eyes were.

For all the years she’d known him, even after they’d stopped talking, she’d always been able to read him like a book. His eyes were always so expressive, two pools of emotion that he never really managed to hide away. She suspected part of why he often wore sunglasses was to make his eyes more unreadable. But she always knew how he felt. When they were younger, there had always been an almost innocent wonder in his eyes, coupled with wariness and intelligence. As they had grown older, the wariness had gradually receded to make place for arrogant confidence. She had always been able to tell when he was bored with his environment (which was more often the case than not), when he was keeping up a front, when he was trying to hide the hurt.

But now…

Now his eyes were carefully devoid of emotions. The childish naivete he had always had was nowhere to be seen. His gaze was dark, hinting at something hard and ugly beneath the surface. There was nothing but steel in his gaze, steel and grief. During the few seconds when Natasha and Tony had locked eyes, she had felt ice curl in her chest. She had never seen his walls that high before. She wasn’t even sure if she could get past them. She wasn’t sure if Tony would let her in. 

* * *

 

When they landed, Tony was ushered off by the medics, Rhodes tight on their heels. Natasha didn’t try to follow them. The warning look Tony had given her before they disappeared inside the base was enough to dissuade her. Instead, she went to the barracks, and called Fury to tell him Tony had been found. The director only hummed before hanging up, but she could swear he was surprised. She couldn’t judge him, though. She still couldn’t believe that Tony was alive, much less with them again. Months of fruitless search had made her fear for the worst. She had seen how Rhodes had launched more and more desperate missions, how he had run himself ragged, refusing to believe that Tony was lost even when all his superiors were telling him to give up. Natasha had only been able to join him in the search after the one month mark. It had taken time to build up a reliable cover to get accepted into the high-risk Afghanistan base, but she had worked relentlessly. In the end, she had been at least as high strung and desperate as Rhodes. She hadn’t wanted to accept that Tony would just be _gone_ like that. Gone, when they had parted on such bad terms. Not a day had passed without her berating herself for never taking contact with Tony again. 

But now that she had her second chance, the chance to talk to Tony again and reconcile with him, she was afraid that she had missed it already. She should have been honest when he had asked her why she was here. Now he wouldn’t believe a word she said, and it was her fault entirely.

She spent the next hour in the common room, anxiously waiting for Tony to return from his meeting with what she guessed was a doctor. 

When she saw him, he was wearing a thick shirt that completely obscured any glow there might have been. He was flanked by Rhodes and a doctor, most likely one that was bound to secrecy. The doctor was looking slightly stunned, and Rhodes was very pale, and Tony had a grim look on his face. Natsha guessed that whatever had happened to Tony, it was very bad. She couldn’t know if the device was still there or if it was gone, but she suspected it was still on him--

What if it was attached to him? Was it--was it _in_ him?

Suddenly, the way Tony held his hands close to his chest, how he flinched almost imperceptibly when anyone got too near, told Natasha a more dreadful story than she would have thought.

 _What happened to you in those caves, Tony?_ She wondered. _What did they do to you? What part of yourself did you leave behind?_

There was no doubt that Tony was a changed man. But in what way? Only time would tell her. 

She had to be patient. Maybe she would have to watch from afar, but she hoped, no, she desperately wished that Tony would give her another chance. She couldn’t leave him. 

For now, however, she would have to content herself with talking to the doctor and to try to needle details out of him. Unfortunately, he didn’t give her anything, citing the numerous NDAs he had had to sign before even being able to see Tony. She gave up, frustrated with him, but mostly with herself. 

She tried approaching Tony a few times, but he made it very clear that he was not in the mood for any conversation. She wasn’t able to have a meaningful conversation before they boarded the plane to the States, and during the flight, the few hours he spent awake were spent talking in a low voice with Rhodes.  

* * *

 

 _Thank god someone brought me a suit,_ Tony thought to himself as he struggled to pull one of his arms through the jacket sleeve. In the small confines of the cargo plane, Tony made sure to always know where Natasha was, keeping away at a safe distance. He could hear her awkward shuffle behind him, and the words almost daring to fall from her lips.

 _No, I don't want your help._ He replied to himself silently, _I don't want anything from you. Just like you don't want me._

Another small blessing was gifted to him in the form of Rhodey, but then again Rhodey had always been too good for Tony. The Colonel came from behind, and pulled on the sleeve to help his right arm get in.  Without being asked Rhodey also tightened his brown tie before helping him into his sling. 

“Don't make that face at me Tones,” Rhodey said, while Tony played with the blue strap around his neck. “The medics said you needed to wear this until you get checked out at the hospital.” 

“I’m not going to no damn hospital,” Tony growled in response. By the look he received, Tony knew his pleas went unheard; instead, Rhodey placed his suit’s coat over his shoulders and sent him a pitiful look that always made Tony feel like a scolded kitten. 

Rhodey let out a huff. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just go sit in the damn chair by the ramp extension.” 

Tony went without arguing, and refused to look back at the red head behind him. He was grateful for the few moments of silence he had before they landed. The pain in his shoulders didn’t feel like the only thing weighing him down. If he sat still and focused he could feel his  heart pounding against the metal in his chest, he could feel his lungs struggling to fill up with more air. 

 _God, fuck, he needed more air_. Air. _Why,_ was it so fucking _hard to breathe._ He wasn’t in the cave anymore. _Why,_ did his chest still hurt? He wasn’t in a sand covered desert anymore. Then _why_ did his hands still feel dirty? He no longer had to fight for his life, but then why could he still see blood on his hands? Why couldn’t he tell who it belonged to? Was it his? Was it from the terrorists he killed? Was it Yinsen’s? 

_Or was it from the innocent lives that were murdered using his weapons?_

What was he supposed to do? What would Howard have done? No, he couldn’t think like that. Howard wasn’t a role model. Tony couldn’t compare himself to his father seeing how he never wanted to be like him in the first place. A better question would be...what would Jarvis do? What would Ana do? What would Aunt Peggy do? 

_Wherever you can compromise you do, but where you cant, Don’t. When the world is telling you to move, it is your job to plant yourself like a tree and tell them — No, YOU move.”_

That’s what she used to say. He’d heard her say it about a dozen times. She told him this when a professor at MIT refused to pass him on a technicality, when his first scandals had broken out about also sleeping with men, and a million times when Obie was in charge of the company. But how did that apply to him now? He wasn't sure. 

 _I don't even know what I want,_ Tony grumbled. _What is it that I’m even trying to do?_ What could he or couldn't he compromise? 

He just wanted...he just wanted to be like Aunt Peggy.

And Jarvis.

And Ana.

And Captain America. 

The words fell out of Tony's mouth quieter than a whisper, yet he was unable to stop his lips from forming the words once he realized it,“I just wanna be good.” 

He just wanted to be good. 

And that was something he could not compromise on. Not anymore. Not for money or fame or for some family legacy that was thrust upon him. What would Aunt Peggy think of him if he did? What would Jarvis and Ana think? Captain America. 

 _Captain America would hate my guts right now,_ Tony thought to himself. _Me, a murderer, causing innocent people to die_. He felt the plane shake under him and he realized that they would be landing soon. A decision had to be made, though if you’d asked Tony he’d say it’d been made for him in the cave. 

When the rear door of the plane finally opened, Tony was blinded by the California Sun that beat down on the landing strip. Unlike the unforgiving sun in the desert in Afghanistan, it felt like coming home, and for once he looked forward to breathing in the smog from the city. 

Tony took Rhodey's hand without a second thought as the man helped him descend down the ramp, oddly enough, okay maybe not that odd, Tony wondered what Natasha would do next. He could say what he wanted from her. Apology? For what, thought? She hadn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t even sure he wanted her around, and if she did was she just going to leave again? 

“Watch your step,” Rhodey told him as they made their way to the bottom. Tony’s eyes focused themselves more snapping him out of his daze. Unknowingly, Tony’s eyes had zoned in on Pepper, though he couldn't really complain. Her strawberry blonde hair framed her face almost too perfectly, and it’d be wishful thinking to think it was just for him. No, it most definitely wasn't. Virginia “Pepper” Potts was strong, and Tony perished the thought that she would let herself go in his absence. 

Good old Pepper. 

She’d never let anything stop her, not even him. 

Begrudgingly, he took his eyes off Pepper to dismiss the paramedics, but it did nothing to stop the warm admiration he had for her from spreading throughout his chest. It was enough to make him forget about the newly acquired piece of metal embedded in his chest, and when he inhaled deeply he didn’t mind the way his lungs rubbed against the reactor. 

With confidence he hadn’t felt in a long time he swaggered towards Pepper, noting how at a closer distance her nose and eyes were red. The bags under her eyes were even more noticable. Was Obie giving her a hard time? 

That just won't do, Tony thought to himself, and tilted his head back while pursing his lips.

“Your eyes are red,” Tony proclaimed, in a more scientific matter than he had intended to. He didn’t mean to state it as fact. He was unsure if they were for him or because she was glad she no longer had to deal with the mess of his disappearance. However, he took the risk anyway. “A few tears for your long-lost boss?” 

In return Pepper gave him a watery smile and responded in her own factual manner, “Tears of joy. I hate job hunting.”

It never dawned on Tony that she could have quit, it wasn't a possibility he had thought of, and in that cave he had thought of many. Though he knew she had every right to, and he would never stop her from doing so. Chase after her, definitely, but not stop her.

“Yeah well vacation’s over,” he told her as they made their way into the car, where Happy was waiting for them. Tony didn’t look back to see where Natasha was going. He didn’t want to see her leave again. He focused on Happy, and if the  bodyguard/chauffeur was a bit misty eyed, Tony didn’t mention it. Instead, he told him that Happy’s vacation was over, and that Tony didn’t plan on leaving any time soon. Happy just smiled. He’d argue and say that that was the reason why Happy listened to him and not to Pepper when he insisted on getting a cheeseburger. Happy had a stubborn streak a mile long and they all knew it, if he had sided with Pepper then Tony probably would’ve been admitted in less than an hour of his landing. Maybe Happy knew Tony would’ve snuck out of the hospital and held the conference anyway, maybe that’s why he went along with Tony’s plan instead of Peppers.

Either way, Tony found himself walking on stage surrounded by reporters and news cameras with Obie walking behind him. Obie hyped up the crowd as they made their way, only asking about going to the hospital once. Tony appreciated the gesture and it was nice to once again feel like someone was on his team. However, when the two walked on stage, they went on two seperate directions to the podium. 

From above him Tony could hear Obie speak into the microphone, and he settled against the podium from where he sat. 

Stopping Obie, Tony couldn’t help but call out, “Hey, would it be all right if everyone just sat down?” Formality seemed like such an insignificant thing when you were fresh out of kidnapping.

He pulled a burger out of his suit pocket even though only moments earlier he had told Obie he didn’t have an extra one. _Well Obie, you get captured and tortured for three months, and then you can have the last burger,_ Tony told himself.

“Why don’t you just sit down?” Tony continued, motioning for them to join him. “That way you can see me, and I can…,” So that he could do what? Calm his nerves? He could say that. Tony corrected himself before the words slipped out. “A little less formal and,” Tony shoved the burger in his mouth to stop the press from noticing how out of breath he was. His limited lung capacity seemed to become more hindering by the second. Obie took a seat next to him. 

“Good to see you,” Tony finally told Obie, and he found himself truly meaning it. After Obie returned the sentiment he placed his hand on Tony's shoulder.

Just like he had after Howard had died. Obies large hands had rubbed circles into his shoulders as he had said “I’ll take care of everything. I already have everything in place, you don't have to worry.” 

 _But if I don't who will_ , Tony couldn’t stop himself from thinking. What was the point of Stark industries? A young Tony Stark hadn’t know the answer to that question either. Was this what his father had wanted? A company who cared little about the lives it affected? He would never know.

“I never got to say goodbye to my father,” Tony said, the unanswered questions he had since Howard had died ate at him. He repeated it louder to the crowd. It seemed like a good place to start. He set down his burger. “There’s questions I would’ve asked him. I would've asked him how he felt about what this company did.” _If he was comfortable being a murderer,_ Tony continued in his own mind, _when he looked at his hands, were they stained with blood too?_ Tony said none of those things, but continued with his speech. “ If he was conflicted. If he ever had doubts,” Did he even care about what his weapons would be used for, or did his father just want to make a buck. Was power that important to Howard? All things Tony wasn’t sure about. It made sense that the Howard Tony knew wouldn’t care, but the Howard the press knew would. “Or maybe he was every inch of a man we remember from the newsreels.” There wasn’t much Tony was sure that he knew about Howard. 

What he was sure about was that he knew himself. He knew the man his Aunt wanted him to be, knew the man that Jarvis and Ana was trying to raise him to be, and knew about a young girl who’d once said he’d taught her what being good meant. 

But he hadn't been any of the things that he knew he should’ve been. 

“I saw young Americans killed,” He began again, “By the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them,” _Weapons I created to protect Rhodey_ , he conceded, _to protect Nat_ . To defend anyone willing to put their life on the line like Aunt Peggy and Jarvis had. “And I saw that I had become part of the system that is comfortable with _zero accountability_.”

 _And that’s not who I am no matter what legacy my father has left me_ , he wanted to say. He wanted to shout. 

“Mr.Stark,” The press quietly began to call after him. Tony looked to a reporter who had joined the press circuit a few years back. 

“Hey Ben,” He hoped the ‘nice to see a familiar face’ went unspoken.

“Mr.Stark, what happened over there?” 

What happened. What had happened? He wasn't sure if it was just him or if he could hear the reactor whirring in his chest. Maybe for once he could answer a question honestly. He forced himself to stand before he did so, “I had my eyes opened. I came to realize that I had more to offer to the world than making things blow up.” _I promised Yinsen, I would do more than just make things blow up_ , he internally added. Tony moved to stand behind the podium while Obie and the other stayed sitting. “And that is why, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark International.” 

The crowd sprang from their crouched positions and in the blink of an eye Obie was by his side. It didn't stop Tony from speaking over the uproar of the press in front of him or from Obie who was talking loudly in his ear. 

“Until such a time as I can decide what the future of the company will be.” Tony declared. He continued to speak as Obie tried to drag him off the stand. The man didn’t seem to care if he was grabbing Tony’s bad arm, and Tony didn’t care either. He ignored the burning pain, raising his voice to a higher volume. “What direction it should take, one that I’m comfortable with and one that is consistent for the highest good for the country as well.”

With his peace said he no longer cared to be on the podium, and he walked off knowing Obie wouldn’t follow. The man would be concerned with damage control to follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We apologize for the long wait. It's been difficult to write as of late because we always write our chapters together or have the other person look over what we wrote before we post. 
> 
> Some of our chats while writing this:
> 
>  **Okay_Stark** : i think tony loves pepper so much because he knows she strong enough to move on without him  
>  **Lomku** : DONT MAKE ME CRY  
>  **Okay_Stark** : IM FOR REALY  
>  **Lomku** : YOU CANT SAY THT AFTER ENDGAME  
>  **Okay_Stark** : I AM WRONG THO
> 
> Funfact: Tony tell's Obie there's only one burger left and eats it on the way to the press conference, but then while the press conference is going on he pulls out another burger from his suit pocket and eats it. So we figured out technically Tony ate 3 burgers, because he wiped his mouth when he gets out of the car hinting at another burger, (what we guess) in 15 minutes. 
> 
> Let us know what you thought about the chapter in the comments!


End file.
